Crimson's Child
by Ladya C. Maxine
Summary: Prequel to 'Resurfacing'. Abused by his disfunctional family, young Tala sees no other way of living, resigned to the pain. When he befriends a certain bluenette is it for better or for worse...? Chapter 11 up!
1. No Way Out

Title: Crimson's Child  
Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine  
Rating: M  
Warning: language, violence, drug & alcohol abuse, rape, incest, child abuse  
Summary: Growing up in a dysfunctional family, young Tala has no choice but to bear the brunt of their hate, knowing no other lifestyle, until he meets Kai…  
Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unknown characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and write only to entertain.

A/N: The reason for this fic is that it has been stuck in my head ever since I wrote the Tala/Boris scene in chapter 3 of Resurfacing. In it Boris' mentions Tala's past and how he was abused by his mother and relatives.

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**Crimson's Child**

_By Ladya C. Maxine _

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He didn't want to enter. He really did not want to climb the four broken steps that led up into the ramshackle house that looked near ready to collapse in itself should the wind blow too hard. Shutters were broken and creaked on their long rusted hinges. Almost all the windows had been shattered by stones thrown by neighbourhood kids. Some of the glass had been patched up with cardboard but it was a very shabby sight all the same.

The cold winter air blew around him and he shivered, pulling together the raggedy jacket whose thread barely clung to him. His feet were starting to turn numb as the icy ground nipped his toes through the thin sole of his sneakers.

Adjusting his torn backpack he sighed sadly and started up the driveway which was riddle with broken pavement through which weeds sprouted out. At least it was more agreeable to walk on than the lawn. Dead, brown grass as high as his shoulder, maybe even higher, choked the front of the house, almost hiding it from the street.

The rotting floorboards groaned beneath his tired feet as he climbed the rickety steps, mindful not to go near the large hole at the top. Edging his way around it he reached up and undid the latch that served to keep the front door shut since the door knob had broken off last summer. Forced to stand on tip-toe he finally managed and it creaked open.

The strong stench of drugs and alcohol assailed his senses and he had to blink and swallow several times before he could step inside. The tattered welcome mat did little to remove the icy mud that stuck to his shoes despite his efforts to wipe it off. He gave up and pulled them off, leaving him with his socks though they were his only pair and so was badly worn out.

Removing his jacket, he hung it on the rusted nail that served as a peg and shifting the heavy backpack to his other shoulder he headed to where he could hear the television in the living room. As he stepped into the smoke filled room he was almost pushed over by a girl who ran out, shouting loudly as another child followed her in an attempt to get back the small box she had obviously stolen. Both stopped their horseplay as their eyes settled on the newcomer. The first girl wrinkled her nose in disgust and confusion and turned to where someone lounged in the couch.

"Mama! Someone here!"

A grunt came and a grey streaked mop of brown hair rose. The woman's mane was a highway of knots and mats with grey strands poking out at the hairline and at the back, hanging limply down till bony shoulders. Her cheeks were somewhat sunken in as were her eyes. They had once been a vibrant emerald but now they were a sickly green that was always rimmed with red veins. Her skin had turned a slight shade of yellow from lack of sunlight and wrinkles cracked the corner of her eyes.

Moving to sit up, she swayed unevenly as she took another draw of the joint held loosely between her fingers. A puff of smoke flared from her nostrils, rising to mingle with the storm cloud of smoke she had already made that hovered all around. She was dressed in a stained sleeveless blouse that constantly slipped from her shoulder. Next to that she wore socks but that was all. Now she scrutinized the small red-haired boy before her.

"You're late."

She could still speak properly so she must have just come off work which was strange since her job as a waitress at a run down bar in the worse side of town was always from 2 p.m. to sometimes 2 a.m. But she always came home at seven in the morning, stoned or drunk with the stench of a man's cologne on her.

"Jacob couldn't find the bag--"

"Just shut up and give me it," she snapped impatiently. Turning to the two girls who stood watching, she snapped, "Leave!"

Both girls ran up the stairs. The wood creaked and threatened to break beneath their hurried footsteps but due to the shortage of food they, like all the kids in the house, were very thin and weighed almost nothing so there was no threat of the old wood giving way.

Not even waiting for her son to take off the backpack, she jerked him around and tore open the flap, smiling to find a large brown package stuffed inside. Pulling it out eagerly she placed it on the table before her, after swiping off all the empty beer bottles, and opened it. A crow of delight escaped her lips to find the precious white powder and hash and other 'medications', as she would tell the boy every time he asked her about it.

"You know the way to a woman's heart, Jacob."

Quickly outing her old joint, she rolled a new one and soon a fresh, pungent smell invaded the room. It was then that she remembered the small boy before her.

"How much did he want for it?"

"He asked for 500."

"We agreed on 350!" She straightened, blowing the limp strands of hair from her face.

"He wanted 500."

Backing away seemed the safest option but he was grabbed by the shirt and found himself staring into her blood-shot eyes. The burning tip of the joint was dangerously close to his face and he flinched as it bobbed over his skin with each word she uttered.

"Did you steal it? Jacob never gives things away for free. Damnit, boy! What did you do!"

"I didn't steal it! I swear! I tried to get him to lower the price but he refused."

"Are you truly as dumb and slow as your father was? Do I need to spell it? How. Did. You. Get. Them?"

"I let him touch me!" he cried out when he felt her ragged nails start to dig through the cloth to scrape his shoulder.

To his relief she released him, a smirk on her face.

"Again? You get more lay than I do, boy." An insane laugh escaped her lips when he lowered his head in shame. "Have you any idea of how long I've been trying to get that man to notice me? Ten years. And all you have to do is look at him and he jumps at the chance to take you."

This was something he had heard before and he tried to change it before it turned into a beating.

"He said to tell you hi."

"Touched," she muttered sarcastically. Pure jealousy burned in her eyes as she studied the delicate features of the young child before her. She envied his beauty. For hours she would try to get some form of life in her hair or she would smear her face with layers of make-up yet she could never compete with her youngest. This was one of the reasons why she hated him so much. With a glare she scoffed and turned back to the T.V.

This usually meant for him to get lost but he lingered, biting his lip nervously.

"Ma'am?"

A grunt of acknowledgement told him that she was still awake.

"On my way home...I passed the schoolyard."

Another grunt though her eyes were focused on the fuzzy image on the screen of their beaten up television set, not caring that her youngest was bared to explicit contents. Hell, he saw worse whenever she brought home a drunken patron from the bar. The boy himself had been a participant in their 'love-making'. An unwilling participant, but one nonetheless.

"There were lots of kids playing there--"

"Spit it out, boy! I'm missing my show." She grabbed a beer from the mouldy cardboard box near her feet and popped it open, carelessly throwing the cap behind her.

"Can I go to school?"

Beer sprayed as she barked with laugher. Ignoring the foaming liquid that dribbled down her chin, she turned to him with an incredulous look, a mad smile on her face.

"School! You! What would you do there? Clean the other brats' shoes and wipe down the desks? Listen, boy; school is for brats whose parents can't bother to put up with them all day. I'm not gonna waste my money on books that don't teach you shit!"

"But--"

"Enough!" She put the beer down forcefully, the foam spilling over to pool on the table surface. Standing with some difficulty, she swayed threateningly. "I went to school. I believed in all that mind is a bad thing to waste or whatever that shit slogan said. And look where it got me." She waved her arms around. "Here I am, 28 years old, nine kids, one wreck of a house, no husband, and a fucking partridge in a pear tree!"

He ducked as a beer bottle meant for him went wide and shattered against the wall though not before ripping a hole in the yellow stained wallpaper. It was time he left before she decided to come after him personally. Evading her clawing hands, he ran out the room and down the hall. He could still hear her rampaging, throwing things around and cursing but he knew she wouldn't even bother following him. She had probably forgotten about him and wouldn't remember until she ran out of drugs and ordered him to walk across town to get it for her. So he had at least four days until their next meeting.

Leaning against the wall trying to catch his breath his stomach grumbled loudly. It was painful and he tried to recall the last time he had eaten. Definitely not this morning as his mother had eaten the remaining bread herself and had left the children to find their own food. He had been able to get a few spoonful of the previous night's watery soup but he hadn't eaten anything else that day either. When she wasn't at her work, his mother would be dead asleep in her bed or on the couch and the mere option of her having to cook would always lead to her breaking things, his bones for example.

Risking an encounter with the other children in the house, he ventured into the kitchen.

The linoleum floor was covered in grime and the garbage in the corner overflowed with stinking trash; flies circling it and bloody liquids running out from beneath it to puddle a large section of the corner. A table with some crumbling plastic chairs served as the dining table though no one ever sat around it. The counter was littered with old food wrappers and dirty dishes and the fridge was rusted and the little bulb inside hadn't been working for as long as he could remember.

A lanky girl with frizzy brown hair looked up from where she was reading an outdated magazine against the counter. Next to her sat a plate with a few bones. Her freckled face quickly twisted into a scowl.

"I don't know why my mother allows street rats like you into the house. You're lucky you're her carrier. That's the only thing keeping you alive here."

He heard similar things like that everyday from people on the street but it always hurt when a brother or sister would spit it out at him. Not that it was their fault entirely. They didn't know that he was their youngest member. Since his birth he had been denied any bonding with his siblings by his mother. He was just some pathetic kid who they could order around.

Not that there was any bonding in the house to speak of. Hardly any of them were actual brothers or sisters. From the nine kids only 2 were true siblings. The rest were all half brothers and sisters. Their mother was not one who believed in safe sex and the result was a large group of kids who hated each other's guts.

"Hi, Grizelda."

She snorted and turned back to her wrinkled magazine. Reading a paragraph she took a piece of string and tried to style her hair like the woman in the magazine. However, the bushy frizz was stubborn and she gave up, cursing in disgust as she slammed her hands on the counter.

"Stupid bitch." Throwing the magazine on the floor, she kicked it and glowered at him. "What do you want?"

"Nothing." He quickly averted his eyes and started towards the burned pot that stood on the stove. Reaching up to see if perhaps they had left something he yelped when a wooden spoon thwacked his outstretched hand.

"That's mine."

"But you already ate." He pointed to the plate that would no doubt remain in the exact spot for several days before someone would dump out the bones and reuse it without even washing away the hardened food residue.

"So? Maybe I would want to eat some tomorrow."

He knew that she wouldn't but he backed down. The smallest of things would normally get him a really wicked lashing; why urge them on when he could avoid as much as possible?

Walking over to the fridge, he opened it and squinted into the dark space. Daily stealing from nearby markets by various members of the household attributed their 'food' though the lack of proper cooling had made the milk already turn sour and the few meagre apples were brown and soggy. Still, they were something.

Again, his hand was cruelly smacked with the wooden ladle, this time almost breaking a finger.

"What do you think you are doing?" Griselda leaned against the fridge.

"I'm hungry."

"So? This food is for family members only. You eat what's on the stove or nothing else."

"But you said that that was your food."

"Then you can't eat, can you?" Her thin lips curled in a satisfied smile. "If you want to eat then go out and earn some money. Contribute something to the house, though you aren't good at anything."

"I wouldn't say that. He did bring in a hundred dollars a month back after staying the night over at that business man."

A tall, built teen leaned in the doorframe, sipping a flask of whiskey. While they could barely have a meal there was always alcohol in the house. Closing the flask, he slipped it into the back pocket of his dirty jeans and sauntered over. His hair was black and greasy and his eyes were muddy brown.

"Why aren't you at work?" Griselda narrowed her eyes, glaring at her eldest sibling.

He shrugged as he looked down at the small boy who didn't meet his eyes.

"Didn't feel like it."

"You are so pathetic," she grumbled and stalked past him, shooting him a deadly glare when he slapped her on the behind. But she was wise enough to know that reacting would only give him a reason to do worse.

"Skank," he murmured as he watched her turn the corner. Snorting a laugh he looked back at the redhead who had been trying to sneak off without him hearing.

"Whoa, where do you think you're going?" He grabbed the narrow waist and lifted the child up to sit on the counter, bringing them to approximate eye-level. "We have some talking to do."

Talking was something that Fritz never did so he wasn't surprised when his eldest brother started to remove his clothes. It was terrifying all the same, but not surprising. Plus it was shameful and extremely painful but he had learned the hard way not to deny Fritz what he wanted.

Holding back his tears for as long as possible, he closed his eyes when he felt the liquor coated lips press against his own as the hands went about their business.

Tbc...

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Read & Review, please.


	2. No Love Lost

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Warnings: see chapter one

Summary: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unknown characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am making no money off of this and write with the sole intent to entertain.

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A loud crash followed by even louder screaming made him bolt out of his sleep though the person behind him merely grumbled a few cuss words before rolling over onto his stomach. An arm still remained around his waist with sleepy ownership but perhaps he could still slip away before his brother woke up. 

The worn springs in the filthy mattress squeaked as he shifted to the edge of the low 'bed', if one could call it that. Bare off all sheets except a ratty sheet and one lumpy pillow, it was one of the best beds there were in the house; their mother, of course, having the best bed while the other children slept on the floor with paper thin cloths over them that did little to stave off the cold.

Another flow of grumbled curses left Fritz's lips as he turned over again, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the sun light that burned through the dust caked window. He froze in his tracks but when nothing else stirred he lowered a foot onto the floor. A creak of protest came from the plank yet he forced himself to place his other foot down. He now sat on the edge of the bed, which was very painful considering last night.

His body protested as he slowly stood and he had to bite his lip to prevent the pained moan so as not to wake the man behind him. Dark blue and purple bruises on his wrists throbbed irritatingly and he rubbed them as he looked around the filthy room for his clothes which had been cast aside before they had even made it to the bed.

Being the eldest child, Fritz had the luxury of his own room though he didn't treat it as he should. Working at a garage some 6 miles from their home he made his own money and spent it on himself only, happily buying a fifth hand jacket while his siblings lay on the floor starving. His room actually had a closet, something not even their mother had, and was stuffed with clothes he had bought, or stolen. The room looked even smaller than it was since it was cluttered with junk and it was a miracle if he could even find his clothes to begin with.

Finally spotting something that resembled his shirt, he started forward. The only warning he got was a loud creak from the bed before he was roughly yanked back down. With a startled, and pained, yelp he found himself staring up into Fritz'a grinning face, which was in need of a shave as rough fuzz sprouted from his chin and cheeks. Hot breath blew on him with each breath and he swallowed to keep his...well, he had nothing in his stomach, but still the strong smell so early in the morning was nauseating.

"Going somewhere?"

He shook his head dejectedly. He certainly wasn't going anywhere now that Fritz was awake.

"Didn't think so." Pushing himself up with a groan, he stretched languidly, not caring about decency when the sheet fell away to reveal him completely naked.

Averting his eyes, he pretended to study a scab on his knee but Fritz lifted him and placed him on his lap facing him. The muddy-brown eyes drank in the child's soft features, ill-hidden lust and awe gleaming as he ran a hand through the flaming red hair.

"So different..." Studying the bright blue eyes, porcelain skin and red hair, Fritz seemed almost mesmerized. "Whoever your old man must be, he must certainly be a looker since you ain't got any of mom's dull looks." He shook his head. "Too bad you have to be my brother. It's illegal to touch you sexually."

He jumped when a hand started to wander once more.

"Good thing I don't follow the law, isn't it?" With a quick flip he had his smallest brother laying beneath him. Laying over him he started to kiss the relenting lips gently before adding more force as his excitement grew.

The mere thought that his actions were illegal was arousing. Of the eight other kids, he was the only one who knew this to be their youngest sibling, something his mother had murmured in her drunken stupor in his presence. After sobering up she had made him swear not to tell the others. Not that he made any attempt to let the others know; the more distant they were from the boy, the more he had him for himself. Though the older kids weren't that thick, they did hold their tongue about the cries that could easily be heard coming from the room though the thin walls.

Cupping a smooth cheek, he leaned in for a kiss but the 'door' to his room flung upon. Groaning irritatingly, he glared up at a girl of fifteen who stood with her hands on her bony hips. Not even sparing the bruised child a single glance, she said, "Downstairs. Family meeting."

"Get out of my room, bitch!"

"Shut your trap! Mother is calling us!" With a distasteful sneer she finally turned her eyes on the blue-eyed child that laid trapped beneath Fritz. "And leave the whore; this is official family business."

"Fuck off, Marie, I'm coming." He gave the small boy a sharp slap on the cheek. "Stay here till I get back." Another harder slap was given just in case the first one wasn't enough. Giving the bitten lip a bruising kiss, he got up and off the bed, not caring at all of his undressed state before his youngest brother and one of his sisters.

Pulling on a pair of soiled jeans, he asked, "What the fuck happened now? Grizelda stole mother's hash again?"

"Get down stairs and find out for yourself," Marie grumbled and turned to head back down. She didn't even get out of the doorway as Fritz hand viciously grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her almost off her feet as she stumbled backwards.

"I'm asking you, slut!" He wrenched her head to the side, cruelly twisting his fingers in her thin hair, ripping out many strands.

"Ow!! Jeremei got Katcha pregnant!" she surrendered, trying to unsuccessfully pry her hair lose. When he still held on she started to violently tug, not caring that her hair was being yanked out from her scalp. She failed to see the bemused smirk on his face as he suddenly released her. She lost her balance and tumbled to the floor, banging her knee hard on the floor.

Glaring at Fritz as he chuckled gleefully, she rose to sit on the filthy floor. A large black bruise was already forming on her bony knee and her ankle was twisted at a painful angle.

"You are such a prick," she grumbled and painfully tried to get to her feet though she failed.

"See you downstairs."

Laughing at his sister's obvious discomfort, Fritz simply turned and walked out.

Marie cursed loudly and tried again to rise but with nothing to hold on to for support she couldn't. Slamming the wooden boards angrily she cursed again before folding her arms. When a small sound came from beside her she turned to look into wide blue eyes.

"Are you okay?"

With an inaudible growl, she grabbed a slender shoulder and pulled herself up, ignoring the small cry of pain as she placed all her weight on a still healing bruise. Once standing, she removed her hand, looking like she had just touched some virus, and wiped it off on her stained dress.

"Whore," she sneered balefully and limped off, slamming the door behind her.

For the longest of minutes he simply sat on the floor, nursing the throbbing bruise. Marie's jagged fingernails had dug into the blue skin, leaving half moons in the flesh. Slowly, he got to his feet and climbed back onto the bed, curling up into a small ball and crying himself into a restless sleep.

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A sharp sting ripped across his back and he cried out and shied away, opening blue eyes still wet with tears. They only widened somewhat to see his mother standing over him, an old leather belt in hand, its buckle broken and green with age. It snapped once more, just missing his face to land on his collar bone and he yelped again. 

"Wake up, boy." She lashed out a third time, catching his bruised shoulder.

Gasping in pain, he got to his knees, fearing anything else would result in more whipping. Keeping his eyes on his hands, he said, "Morning, ma--"

A solid hand collided with his cheek and he flinched but remained on his knees, afraid that falling would give her an excuse to use the whip again. Though it appeared that beating him up came as a habit of hers; why did she just slap him for?

"Watch that tongue of yours, boy," she hissed and moved a bit to the side.

A young girl, thirteen years of age, stood with her arms crossed and mouth pouted in stubborn rebellion: Katcha. The girl looked between them suspiciously, eyes narrowed at his near revealing mistake. Of course, she didn't know him to be the only child of the family younger than her.

Something hit him softly in the chest and he quickly brought his eyes upon his mother who had tossed him a sweater and jeans. He blinked at the good state of the clothing and sighed inwardly; she had a task for him, again.

"Well, put it on. Their not going to jump onto you." His mother tapped her foot impatiently, the belt dangling at the ready in a bony hand. While he dressed, slowly, she continued, "You're going uptown."

This explained the new clothes. They rarely went uptown since the people there were of a more successful class and the place was filled with law enforcement. His mother had a record that was none too impressive and so she kept a low profile. In fact, they all did. Except him. Everyone got on everyone else's case, but if ever one of them would risk getting picked up by the police they all agreed that it would be him.

Still, what rare reason could there be for his mother to seek him out so soon? They had already seen each other yesterday and she made it clear that she preferred to come across him every three or four days. As risky as it was, he decided to ask.

"Why am I going?" He flinched when she raised the belt again but then she seemed to reconsider it.

"Can't have you walking around those fucking officers all bloody." She muttered more to herself than him. Her pale eyes focused on him. "I need you to go to this address and pick up a package. Then you must go to Petunia, you remember her, don't you?"

"Yes, mo--ma'am." Again he shot a nervous glance at Katcha but she had found interest in the floorboards beneath her bare feet.

"Go to her and give her this paper." She pushed a crinkle scrap into his hand. "Tell her it's for a thirteen year old who is two months along already."

"But momma!!" Katcha suddenly whined loudly, startling him as she stamped her feet like spoiled brat. "I wanna keep it!!"

"Shut your mouth!" She lashed out with the belt, aiming deliberately for the girl's belly. "I already have it up to here with feeding my own worthless lot. I'm not going to break my back by taking in a retarded baby!"

"How do you know it will be retarded?!"

"Fool! That's your brother's child you have in your stomach! You share the same blood! That child is as good as dead!"

"It's not fair! I wanna keep it!"

With a growl, their mother grabbed her shoulders and gave the girl several vicious shakes. "Show some common sense! It is not a doll to play with! That child is going to cost us money! And..." She trailed off and her pale eyes lit up. "Money..."

Spinning around she snapped the belt which caught him unprepared on his hand which still held the paper. Shocked, he dropped it and it fluttered to the floor where she picked it up, tearing it into pieces.

"Fine, keep the little bastard. The moment that thing is born we will sell it. Those squealing lump of flesh can bring in some good money."

"No!" Katcha shrieked angrily. The buckle came down hard and shattered against her pronounced cheekbone. The skin tore and bled. Covering the wound with her hand, she stared with open hatred up at the woman she knew as her mother.

"Go to your room. I am getting sick of you."

The girl's eyes narrowed to mere slits and her fists clenched but she turned and left.

"Consider yourself lucky to be a male, boy," mama said as she turned back to him. "Pregnancy is such a bitch. It is painful and tiresome. Sometimes I wonder how I managed to go through it nine times. And almost every one of them I had to do alone since the bastard who got me pregnant got up and ran off." Her voice softened somewhat.

"Why?"

Such conversations between them were very rare but they did happen. Not that his mother was bonding with him, she would talk to anything, but at least he felt like someone, even if it was just for a few minutes.

"I asked myself that same question." Her eyes got a sad, far-away expression as she sat down on the edge of the bed. "Nine kids, only two of the conceptions I had been in a 'healthy' state of mind. Fritz's father raped me. Four other times I was too drunk to even stay awake. I'm not even sure who Grizelda's father is since I was with three men at one time."

Risking a slap, he timidly climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside her. She felt the shift and turned to look at him, her eyes running over his fair features.

"You have your father's eyes."

He sat up straighter. She never spoke of the man with whom she had conceived him. Any attempt to find out something about his father was met with either severe beatings or plain ignorance. Holding his breath, he made it clear that he was giving her his undivided attention. To his frail hope, she continued.

"He had such blue, warm eyes. Very bright man, he was. A very nice one too; he actually treated me like a person." She smiled at the memory and for a moment he could see the beauty she had once possessed before it had been destroyed by drugs and stress. "I remember one time I wasn't feeling so good and had to stay in bed for three days. On the third day there was a knock on the door and I opened it...and he was standing there." Her voice lightened and she laughed softly. "He brought me some soup and flowers and stayed by my bed till I was better."

"That was very nice." He tried to keep the conversation going for as long as possible. For years she had ranted on what an incompetent fool his father had been but now that he though it over he realised that she had always been under the influence of drugs or alcohol when she did. Did this mean that she really had feelings for his father?

"It was." Her eyes drifted upwards to look at the ceiling which had many large, yellow spots where the rain water and leaking pipes stained it. "I had sex with seven different men, but I actually made love with your father. And unlike the others, he stayed afterwards. He had a more than decent job at some large company uptown and promised to get me out of this slump. He had resources and one day he drove me to this house in the country. It was so beautiful. He had picked it because it had an apple tree in the front and he knew that apple was my favourite fruit. And it was big enough for me and your siblings. They liked him, which was very strange since they never liked anyone, not even me, before. But he had a smile that made the darkest days seem bright."

Her eyes turned dimmer though as she neared the end of her story.

"What happened?" he whispered, voice laced with concern.

"The day came that we would start moving into our new house. We waited and waited...but he never came." She took a shuddering breath. "He had been underway when a truck coming from the other direction lost control and slammed into his car, crushing him to death." A tear escaped and ran down her pale cheek. "When they finally pried the car off him they found this in his pocket." She lifted her hand, the sparse light in the room reflecting off the golden surface of the ring that had been on her finger for as long as he had been alive. "It's an engagement ring. He was going to propose to me that very day. He even had my name engraved into it, see?" Pulling it off, she pointed to the inner side. _Matilda _had been engraved in flowing letters into the gold.

"I'm sorry."

He had tears of his own and he instinctively tried to hug her. She looked about ready to return it but then stiffened and pushed him away with such force that he tumbled from the bed, his head colliding with the floor. Ignoring his pained whimper, she put on the ring, and wiping her face, she stood.

"Get the package for me and find something to eat. And you have better be back before six. We are having guests tonight." He voice was as cold and distasteful as always.

"Who's coming?"

"None of your damn business. Just do as I say." Her eyes were still wet yet she could see well enough to give him a final hard slap to his face before turning on her heels and stalking out the room.

Biting back a sob of frustration, he wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. It always ended like this. She would speak to him and he would get false hope that she was opening up to him. Then she would hurt him and pretend none of it had ever happen.

The bed creaked as he slid off it, wincing when he placed pressure on his backside. On a lighter note, at least Fritz hadn't returned, no doubt having gone to work. Slowly walking out the room, he stopped when sounds from his mother's bedroom down the hall made concern well up inside him.

Walking silently, he reached the door, the only in the entire house that actually had a working lock, and leaned his ear against it. Tears came to his eyes once more when he discerned the noise as sobs. His mother was crying; muttering to herself and occasionally he could hear her whimper his father's name, Sven.

'I did this. I made her remember. I am a burden to the family.'

Unable to remain any longer, he turned and ran down the hall, her frantic crying still ringing in his ears.

Tbc…

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Read & Review, please. 


	3. No More Running

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimers: I do not own Beyblade or any of her characters. All any and unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and write with the sole purpose to entertain.

A/N: I am NO expert when it comes to drugs and their prices. I can honestly (and proudly) say that I am completely clueless. I just invent prices for the drugs in my fic.

* * *

"Hn, Matilda's a fucking furnace. I just supplied her with five pounds of weed two days ago. Bitch breathes more smoke than she does oxygen." 

He didn't say anything, choosing to simply stand there and pretend to take interest in the hazy shop. The air was choked with smoke, smelling of essences and drugs. To many it looked like a harmless pawn shop, normally devoid of customers as the items there were broken and useless.

But that was Jacob's cover-up, one of his many hide-outs where drug trades was done under the counter. His costumers here were all well-to-do people with successful jobs and nice houses but also a craving for a sniff of coke or a joint rolled by Jacob himself, who was a professional in this field.

"Give me the cash." He held out a broad hand, heavy gold and silver rings wrapped around the thick fingers.

As a side-job the thirty-five year old former road construction worker now sparred in underground fights. His frame was towering and the muscles rippled with a mere flex of his wrist. His blond hair was cut military short and his eyes were of a eerie silver. Or at least one of them was; the other was hidden by an eye patch after having been torn out during a fight.

Tearing his eyes away from the scowling face, he dug into the pocket of the relatively new jeans, grabbing some of the crinkled money. He was about to place it in the man's waiting palm but then his better judgement told him not to. It was risky to make physical contact with the fighter, especially for him. Acting as natural as possible, he stood on his toes to drop the coins and paper money on the counter top.

A pierced brow rose but the man said nothing and started to count the money, eyes shifting to the child as he fished out more loose money from the pockets. Soon he was done and stood waiting for the man to finish counting.

"300."

"That's what she gave me, sir." Avoiding the stone cold eye, he fiddled with the bottom of his sweater.

"The price is 301."

He blinked his blue eyes.

"I don't have any more money, sir."

"The full price is 301. If you can't pay it, you can't have it." Leaning on his arms, he grinned at the child who fidgeted before the counter. The large blue eyes darted nervously around as if the money would magically appear in thin air.

"I swear, sir, that's all the money she gave me."

"I suspect that you are going to receive quite a beating when you get home."

"She said the package was worth 300!" His back still burned from the belt lashes and the mere thought of more was nauseating. His voice was shaking with desperation. "Please, sir, she is having guests over tonight and wants the package. I will give you the rest of the money next time."

"Cash up front, or it is as good as gone." He enjoyed making the boy beg; it was very arousing. Right now the blue eyes were starting to fill with tears and the full lower lip quivered. Faking pity, he walked around the tall counter and crouched before the young red-head, lifting the chin gently. The movement caused a tear to lose its balance on the eyelid and it slid down the smooth face. He followed it with hungry eyes, wishing to lick it off.

"Mr. Jacob, sir, please...I can't go home without that package." He stiffened when a hand ran down his back, placing slight pressure to the wounds. "She gets very angry when I don't get what she wants."

"Then I will bargain with you; I will forget about the remaining money," A small smile of gratitude formed on the boy's lips, "In return for two hours of your body." The smile quickly evaporated and the blue eyes widened.

Two hours? With Jacob? Compared to the fighter Fritz was caring.

Before he could say anything else, Jacob grabbed hold of his chin forcefully and pressed a bruising kiss to it, the man's stubble face prickling his skin. After forcing him tongue in for a many seconds, the man withdrew.

"Do we have a deal?"

Two hours of terrible pain, or many days of his mother shouting and beating him? Neither sounded very well and he felt his breath speed up in fear. What was he going to do?

The small bell above the door chimed as someone entered the shop. Jacob immediately released the slim shoulders as a man wearing a very expensive looking mink coat strutted in. Heavy gold chains hung around his neck and a large cigar was clenched between his teeth. Removing black shades the man settled dark brown eyes on Jacob.

"Mr. Dimitri, always a pleasure. Can I help you?" Jacob adopted a pretty polite tone; this must have been a very important client.

"Actually, I am here to help you." Dimitri pulled a flat box from beneath his coat and placed it on the counter. He hadn't even noticed the small child that had backed away when he had neared. "That was a good match last night. I had placed all my money on you and you have never let me down."

"It is and honour to fight for you. What do you have there?"

"A few things I wish to sell. Some items from my wife's jewellery box." Opening the case, he removed a long diamond studded necklace, twirling it between his fingers with disinterest.

"I thought your wife was fond of her jewellery."

"She is." Dimitri grinned slyly. "But when one's wife shags another man, one must take action."

The two adults laughed and began sorting through the box, removing and judging rings and bracelets, carelessly throwing away those they found unworthy. He had been standing in the dark corner, trying to blend in with the shadows. For now he was safe, Jacob seemed to have forgotten about him.

As he watched the two men talk he noticed that the package meant for his mother still stood at the edge of the counter where Jacob had left it. A thought sprung to mind and at first he was hesitant; if Jacob caught him...

'But if I don't he will still hurt me. This is my only chance.'

Sending a quiet prayer to whoever could hear him, he slowly began to inch towards the counter, eyes never leaving the men who were now writing down the prices. Luckily, the package was closer to him than them.

He felt something beneath his feet and froze when a soft scratching sound came as his shoe accidentally scraped it across the floor. His lungs burned from lack of air as he held his breath for several moments but neither adults took notice. Lifting his foot, he saw it to be one of the jewellery that must have fallen from the counter; a simple, silver ring that had been engraved with golden bolts of lightning.

His fingers itched and he bit his lip, casting a glance up at the men. Kneeling slowly, he picked it up and pocketed it. He stood and took a few more cautious steps over. The package was now in arm's reach. In his chest his heart beat so loud that he was sure the men could hear it but they remained unaware of him. He raised his hands until his fingertips brushed the brown paper that was wrapped around the package. Tightening his hold, he gripped it and slowly pulled it off the counter. The weight settled in his arms and he bit back a sigh of relief.

There was no celebrating yet, he still had to get out of the shop. Steeling himself, he moved as quick as he dared on tip-toes. The shop's door was just a few feet away. Behind him he heard Jacob close the deal with the man. The doorknob was cool against his palm when he touched it.

"Hey! Where's the runt?" Jacob's asked angrily.

That was all he needed. He yanked the door open, the wood hitting the small bell, loudly alerting the two. Jacob's enraged growl was muffled as he ran out, the door closing slowly behind him. For a moment he pondered on which direction to take; the busy street to his left which was crawling with police men, or the unknown alley to his right that he had never been through before.

Heavy footsteps pounded from inside the shop and he simply ran, down the alley. Behind him the door was flung open, slamming loudly on the wall.

"Come back here!!" Jacob bellowed and gave chase.

He didn't know where he was going as he madly turned off left and right in the maze that was the alleys of Russia. Gripping the package against his chest, he scanned the area frantically for some sign of escape. He could hear Jacob's loud curses and thundering footsteps behind him and he whimpered in complete fear. It was like a nightmare; some evil creature was chasing him and no matter how fast he ran he felt like he was going no where. And the creature was gaining.

Jacob's long and muscled legs gave him a distinct advantage and the distance between him and his prey was closing steadily. He grinned to himself; he was going to enjoy making the boy pay for his actions. Spurred faster by excitement, he could almost taste the fear that radiated off the child.

'I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die! I'm gonna die!' was all he could think as he turned off again. His legs burned from the running and his back stung as the welts stretched with each stride. He couldn't keep this up for much longer. 'I don't wanna die! God, please don't let me die!'

"You won't get away, runt!"

The man's enraged voice tripled his fears and his vision blurred with tears of horror. Why had he done it?! Now he was surely going to get it badly! The longer he waited, the longer the man would hurt him once he caught him. Maybe, if he surrendered now Jacob would at least let him live.

Having ran out of any other option, he slowed his steps, falling into a shuffled walk. He could hear the man's breathing as he caught up with him. Preparing himself for the abuse that was guaranteed, he started to turn to face his punisher when all of a sudden he felt his left foot slip out from beneath him. With a startled cry, he caught his balance just in time. His hand touched solid coldness and he realised that he had unknowingly stopped right before a large patch of ice.

Jacob, having been so intent on the boy's surrender, failed to notice it too until it was too late. Having reached where the boy had obviously stumbled from weariness, he lunged forward to grab a slender arm when his foot landed on the ice. His speed worked against him and he went down, sliding across the slick surface. Unable to stop, he could only stare at the pile of wood and metal that grew nearer with every second.

"Shit!"

He looked away when the man collided with the pile, causing the unsteady stack to tumble down upon him. For many seconds the only sound in the alley was the clattering and ringing of wood and steel as it crashed down, burying the man beneath its great weight. Then, all was silent.

Breathing heavily, he shakily rose to his feet, watching the pile with apprehension. Brushing the wild strands of red locks from his eyes, he slowly inched forward, mindful of the ice, blinking against the settling dust. Wooden beams laid intermingled with steel in a grotesque work of art and nothing stirred.

'I killed him! I killed someone!' He covered his mouth in shock and disbelief. He was a murderer! The police were going to throw him in jail!

'What am I going to do?! This can't be happening to me!'

A shrill shriek was torn from his throat when a hand smashed through the wooden board near his legs, its thick fingers covered with heavy rings and blood. A loud snarl sounded from within the pile as the hand grappled wildly. Shaken beyond belief, he stepped back when the hand withdrew and a pair of horrendous eyes glared through the opening. One was an eerie silver while the other had a white film covering it.

"Thought you were safe, weren't you?" Jacob growled from within his temporary prison. "Prepare to die a very slow and painful death, boy." He then started to smash his way out, calloused hands and knuckles breaking through the wood and shoving aside the metal as he began to free himself.

He didn't stay around until the man was out. Spinning on his heals, he ran past the slowly diminishing pile. In the distance he could see an end to the alley as light appeared from between the two building. Crying tears of relief, he forced himself forward. Back in the alley he heard Jacob almost fully free himself.

Reaching the end of the alley, he blinked at the sudden light though it was late afternoon and the sun was setting. Before him was a road that was open and bare on either sides. Beyond the road were trees. A roar of rage was all he needed to hear to know that Jacob was free and hunting him. He had to hide and the trees were his only shelter; Jacob would easily catch him if he attempted to out run him.

Taking a deep breath, he sprinted across the road, still clutching the precious package close to him. Luckily, there was no traffic and he made it across safely and bounded into the trees. His legs ached to rest and his breath was coming out in short gasps. Truly too exhausted to continue, he slumped against a tree and slid down, panting like a dog as he tried to calm his racing heart. Looking around he realised that he must have ran through the entire city of Moscow since there were the woods that ran just outside the city limits. The trees grew close together and there were many small bushes.

_**CRASH**_

He snapped to attention at the sound of underbrush being torn apart. A enraged growl drifted and he pressed his eyes shut.

'Please, give me a bit more time.'

He edged to peak around the thick tree trunk. Though he couldn't get a clear view, he could clearly see someone rapidly making their way in his direction, tearing at anything that was in his way.

'God, make this end!'

He forced himself to his feet and randomly choosing a path, he stumbled deeper into the trees. Behind him he could hear Jacob in pursuit and he gritted his teeth and broke out into a run. This time his body didn't even wait five second to object; a stabbing pain struck him from both sides and his legs felt like they were on fire. Despite the cool air he was sweating and the salty water stung the welts and cuts on his body which trembled with exhaustion.

God had probably heard his pleas as the underbrush grew thicker with each step he took. He was small enough to crawl through, only slightly unhindered, but Jacob's large body was restrained by the bushes and the man's shouts of frustration soon faded as he fell further and further behind.

He pushed himself to go on, wanting to put as much distance between him and the drug-dealer as possible. He didn't know how long or how far he ran but soon the skies were turning a shade of purple and a few stars were appearing above his head. Around him the forest was completely silent with the exception of his ragged breathing.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, he collapsed. His legs simply gave way and he fell to his knees, allowing the package to drop to the moss covered ground as he braced himself on his arms. Sitting back on his heels, he wrapped his arms around his waist, trying to dampen the throbbing pain in his side. His head ached and he was cold. The fact that he hadn't eaten anything all day was brought back up when his stomach growled.

'I have to get home. Momma is going to be so angry with me.'

After several minutes he was able to get his breathing somewhat under control and the aches in his side had lessened a bit though everything else hurt all the same. Biting his tongue to prevent himself from groaning in distress, he gathered the brown package and stood, swaying slightly as he tried to find some way out of there.

Through his blurry tears, he saw many bright lights shining through the trees somewhere to his right. Maybe it was a house where he could seek shelter in the shed. His feet, that had earlier burned him, were now numb with cold and he could barely feel them with each step he took.

Finally reaching close enough, he wiped away the tears with his sweater's sleeve and peered beyond the trees. His mouth fell open.

A large complex stood proudly before him. A high black fence ran around the open grounds and the entrance was of a stone arch that was guarded by two vicious looking gargoyles. The main building looked like a palace and it was surrounded by smaller rows of buildings. Lights shone from carved windows and bright spotlights shone upon the dew covered grounds. People in long black robes and hoods walked around in eerie silence, like ghosts.

He was awed yet at the same time the building held a sense of foreboding mystery. Something drew him to it yet pushed him back at the same time.

He was shaken from his reverie when he heard a distant rustling of someone making their way towards him from behind. Jacob! He was still after him!

Abandoning his cover, he ran towards the steel fence. Sharp tops made it impossible for him to climb over it but a higher power seemed to have been on his side once again; a bar was missing, giving him enough room to slip his thin body through. Falling into a crouch, he watched for any movement before making towards the building, careful to avoid the spotlights.

'This place is like a prison.' The thought cam to mind though he wished it hadn't. There was no comfort in knowing that he was in a prison that was hidden deep in the woods. What type of people are kept here? Those mentally disturbed ones who hacked people up into pieces and then ate them?

Swallowing his nervousness, he decided the safest course of action was to simply lay low for the night and leave the first thing in the morning. Jacob would have to be gone by then. His mother would no doubt be infuriated with him once he got back home but he had no other choice.

He spotted a high wall that ran around an open ground that was poorly lit. It was pretty isolated from everything else and he could easily hide in its shadows for now. Keeping low to the ground, something that was easier than expected since he was almost dragging himself in exhaustion, he rubbed his eyes to relieve the burn and crept alongside it till he reached the archway.

His ears perked when at a faint whizzing sound. It was barely audible but in the silence of the compound it was detectable. And it was coming from within the walls. Stepping into the archway, he saw nothing on the large open field. Nothing, that is, except a small object spinning on the ground.

'A beyblade!'

Of course he knew of these. All the kids in the neighbourhood had one and he had spent many hours watching them pull the ripcord, making the small but powerful blades cut through the air before taking their opponents out. He had none, they were very expensive, but if he could he would trade everything he had just to hold one in his hands. Something about the blades mesmerized him.

Momentarily forgetting his tiredness, he walked over, stopping a few feet away from the blade which spun effortlessly despite the fact that it was on top of a pile of snow, slowly levelling the dome down as it slung the white substance in all directions. He moved a few more steps until he was standing right over it, his blue eyes glittering.

He crouched down gingerly, afraid to disturb its momentum. Despite himself his hands twitched to simply touch the smooth surface. The fact that the blade was apparently spinning alone did not occur to him. All he could do was watch. Somehow, he felt at peace watching the small object. He felt comforted to hear the high speeding twirling. It felt as if it was a part of me; like this was what he had been missing all his life.

Unable to stop himself, he reached out his hand.

Something moved in the shadows and before he could even react his wrist was caught in a strong grip. He jumped with a small cry and tried to pull away but the gloved hand had a tight hold on his slender wrist. He raised his eyes and the first thing he saw were an intense pair glaring back at him. They were narrowed dangerously and glowed a fiery red in the dark night.

Tbc…

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Read & Review, please. 


	4. No Longer Alone

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and write with the sole intent to entertain.

* * *

"I-I'm s-s-sorry, I did-didn't know t-this was yours!" He made another futile tug but his hand didn't even budge. He swallowed hard, trying to keep the other's intense stare. 

A boy, about his age, crouched before him. Red eyes glared at him through long silver bangs that darkened into a deep blue towards the back. Strange but dangerous looking marks were painted on his cheeks, making him look like a predator. Despite his feral eyes, his face was emotionless as he watched the boy in his hold struggle weakly against him.

"Please...d-don't hurt me..."

He didn't know how the bluenette would react to his words but he was surprised when the fires dimmed a bit. The stone wall crumbled as the bluenette tilted his head slightly to one side, studying him. The hand holding his let go and the bluenette sat back on his heels.

He didn't know if he would be set free but he wasn't about to risk it; something about this boy was dangerous and not to be tampered with.

Wordlessly, the bluenette reached out his hand and picked up the spinning blade. The whizzing sound stopped, leaving a dead silence in the air. Pocketing the blade, the boy turned back to him, eyes wandering over his face. Lifting a gloved hand, he removed the leather hand wear and reached out. Expecting a slap or something unpleasant, he braced himself and pressed his eyes shut, whimpering as he submitted to the other.

Instead of pain, however, he felt the barest whisper of fingers on his face. He opened an eye and was taken back when he saw a look of...understanding? A bit of pressure was added and he hissed and pulled away, his own hand going up to cover the fading bruise on his cheek, compliment of one of his brothers before he had left the house that day.

Red eyes lost their scary glow, leaving behind a boy who watched him with childish curiosity, head cocked to one side. For several minutes they simply watched each other, taking in the other's appearance.

Looking into the blood red eyes, he couldn't help being drawn into them. They mesmerized him... And why was there a boy in a place like this? Was he a prisoner? A murderer?!

A loud commotion exploded from the other side of the wall behind him and he jumped, dropping to the ground and covering his head. Crawling backwards, he pressed himself against the wall as many feet crunched the snow as dark robed men ran by. Deep voices shouted out orders and he felt his heart stop when the word 'intruder' came up. They had found him!

Before him, the bluenette had yet to move from where he sat on his heels. The crimson eyes calmly took in the scene as he replaced his glove. Rising to his feet, he walked towards the archway and leaned against it, eyes intent on something. The relaxed way with which the stranger acted proved that he had to be a local to this place, whatever this place was.

"What is it now?"

A deep voice made him jump and risking trouble, he crawled to peep around the corner, hiding behind the bluenette's baggy jeans.

To his horror an entire group of guards stood just feet away from his hiding place. All had very big guns and very ugly sneers on their faces. Two of them held a struggling person between them, their grip as iron on the muscled captive as the bluenette's grip had been on him.

"Who are you?"

The same commanding voice spoke up again and he edged a little more to his left.

A man stood before the guards. He was very tall and very pale and had steel grey eyes. He was dressed also in dark robes though his face was visible from beneath a more elaborate hood that just barely showed his purple hair. This was probably the boss of the prison.

"Get your fucking hands off me!"

He made a muffled squeak and the bluenette glanced down with puzzled eyes. Covering his mouth with his hand, he looked back to where Jacob was glaring daggers and knives at the older man. Luckily, no one had heard his cry of fear.

"You have been caught trespassing on private property," said the tall man.

"There ain't no signs on the gate that say 'Keep Out'." Jacob growled.

The tall man simply raised a brow and looked at the guards. The air was filled with the clicks of guns as they were all aimed at Jacob's head.

"These are the only signs we need."

"Alright, fine. But I am not leaving without my property."

Giving an annoyed sigh, the grey-eyed man asked, "What property?"

"A small boy."

The eyes narrowed to mere slits.

"This is an Abbey, sir; it is filled with small boys."

"This one stole something from my shop. And believe me, he ain't from here."

He gulped and looked up to find the bluenette's red eyes trained on the package he gripped to his chest. The crimson pair slid up to his face and narrowed somewhat before looking back to the conflict.

"How very unfortunate for you," the Abbey head said sarcastically, "It truly grieves me to tell you that we have seen no such child here. Now, do please allow our guards to escort you out."

"That runt has 300 dollars worth of drugs with him! I am not going to leave until I get it back!"

"Using children to traffic illegal drugs? My, my, wouldn't the police love to hear about this." Taking a step closer, he was a good two or three inches taller than Jacob, he glared down at him. "Get out of my Abbey. Dare to return and you will not live to see the outside world again."

Jacob tried to lunge at him but the guards held him firm and proceeded to drag his kicking and screaming form into the shadows, heading for the front gates. Meanwhile, the other guards returned to their duties, leaving the tall man and a lone guard.

"How did he get in here?" the man asked through gritted teeth, not even turning to face the guard.

"We believe he climbed the gate, Mr Balcov, sir. He is covered in scratches."

"I think it is high time we install the electrical fence." He remained silent for a few seconds. "And have some of our men check the grounds; if the man spoke the truth then we have a little visitor."

"Yes, sir." He turned and walked briskly into a nearby building.

The grey eyes remained trained towards the front gate, though he said, "I know you are there."

He felt his heart constrict tightly. He was caught! What were they going to do to him?!

"Come here, Kai."

Much to his great relief, and curiosity, it was the bluenette who the man had been talking to. The boy, now identified as Kai, sighed softly and walked over, head bowed and arms behind his back in military fashion.

"Yes, Boris, sir?"

"What are you doing out here so late? It's past nine o'clock."

"I was training, sir." He held out his beyblade as proof.

"Always the perfectionist, aren't you, Kai?" A proud smile spread across Boris' pale face but Kai didn't return it, only nodding mutely. "Well, off to bed with you. Tomorrow you will all be training out in the woods. You'll need your strength."

"Yes, sir." He started to walk away but the man's voice stopped him.

"Kai, have you, by any chance, seen an unfamiliar face while out training?"

Behind the wall, he squeezed his eyes shut. Kai sounded to be very disciplined and serious and he knew he would give him away. So when Kai answered, he was shocked.

"An unfamiliar face, sir?"

"A boy who doesn't belong here."

"No, sir. I haven't. Why do you ask?"

"Never mind. Go to sleep. You will be up at five in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

The man's dark robes quickly melted into the shadows and his booted footsteps slowly faded until the night was once more silent.

Crawling to his feet, he looked uncertainly at the bluenette, Kai, who had his back turned to him.

"Um...thanks...for not--"

"Go around to barracks and you will find the main south entrance. Beside it is the guard's house. It is empty but there is a wooden board that you can push away. You can fit through it and you will be out. Don't ever come back here." Without another word, or even looking back, he walked off; the shadows of the buildings swallowing his small form right before his eyes.

Taken back by the command but grateful for it at the same time, he sent a silent thank you to Kai and hurried towards that guard house. With the exceptions of a few guards underway there was no one else and he was able to slip into the desolated small hut and found the loose board Kai had told him about. Even with his thin frame it was a very near fit but he managed. There was no cover outside the walls and he made a quick sprint for the trees.

Leaning against a trunk to catch his breath, he looked down at the brown package that sat in his lap. All of this had happened because he had stolen this stupid thing. He was tempted to throw it deep within the trees and leave it there but a tortuous whipping waited for him back home and with this he could guarantee that his mother would keep it brief in order to sample her new products.

'She'll probably be mad because I made a mess of these clothes also.' Looking down, he took in the mud stains and tears he had gotten from crawling through the thick underbrush. A huge hole was in one pants' knee and blood stained his chest. It was only then that he realised that he had been scratched by a low branch or something sometime during his flee from Jacob earlier.

He let out a small moan of dismay but got to his feet; it was a long way home and if he started walking now he may make it back before midnight.

He turned to give the Abbey, now even more intimidating after his near- escape a few seconds ago. The towers were menacing and he could see several large bats fluttering around its peeks. Several windows burned with light and the spiked gates gleamed in their rays.

Looking at the haunting complex, he felt a tug at his heart. It felt as if he was running away from a place he belonged. But how was that possible? He had never been there and the people didn't look all that friendly. And still...

Giving the dark buildings a final look, he turned and ran off into the dark forest.

* * *

The guests turned out to be none other than his mother's sister and her husband. Bums would have been a more appropriate word for them. Guests were people who were dignified and sat around the table in their nice clothes and designer shoes, drinking tea and talking about their jobs and their interesting lives. 

Of course, his mother knew no such people and drug addiction ran in the family, or so it appeared for the sight that greeted him when he came home, which was indeed some minutes after midnight, was anything but what proper guest visits were supposed to be.

His mother, wearing a large t-shirt and socks as always, was sitting in the torn chair in the corner, the stuffing having burst from the cover and trailed over the floor. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or passed out but in any case she wasn't aware of him. Neither were the other two adults who were kissing and groping on the couch, the woman's 'blouse' lay near the entrance and her bra hung over the beaten television set.

Aunt Jo had a 'job' as a cleaner in a moderately decent shop uptown, though she never stayed employed somewhere for more than a month, her brash temper and colourful language landing more trouble in her hands than money. She made up for her loss by relaxing to the 'soothing' effects brought on by massive drug intakes. The results, like his mother, caused her to look like she was slowly rotting away.

Still, her appearance was enough to make Bernard marry her. He worked in a junkyard on the outskirts of the city, though he could never keep a job for long either. Together they lived in a rundown apartment somewhere deep within Moscow's abbeys. Neither had children. None living anyways; Aunt Jo had given birth to two stillborns and her third child was found floating in the icy lake of one of the parks, having died after being thrown in there by Jo just a few hours after it had been born. The police never found the parents. Needless to say, Jo didn't have a love for children.

"Where have you been?!"

Startled by his mother's shout, he spun around but his vision was obstructed by a hand which slapped him sharply across the face. He dropped the package, backing away as she towered above him, eyes red with sleep and drugs.

"I-I-I-I w-was--"

Not giving him time to explain, she grabbed him by the shirt front and lifted him so they were looking each other eye-to-eye. With each breath she exhaled he could smell the reek of alcohol on it. The sounds of pleasure from behind him had fallen silent and he could feel the other adults' eyes on him.

"How fucking dumb are you to not know when it is late?!! Look outside!!" She roughly turned him to let him see out the window. "What do you see?! WHAT DO YOU SEE?!?!?"

"I-It's n-n-night."

"Useless runt!!" With a disgusted snarl, she pushed him away.

Landing with a jar on the old floorboards, he curled into a ball, trembling with fear. He didn't have to wait long before a socked heel caught him in the back. Biting his lip till it bled, he whimpered, ducking more in on himself to protect his head and chest as much as possible.

"I'm sorry!" he cried, keeping his eyes closed, fearing to look into her mad ones.

"Where is it? Where's my stuff?"

"I brought it! It's on the floor!" The tears had soaked his shirt and smudged the dirt on his face. His cheek was red and a bit swollen from where she had struck him though he knew his body would be bruised from the fall.

Releasing his hair, she practically ran to the brown package, which was quite worn from his long trek through the woods. Falling to her knees, she began to tear at wrapping like a wild animal.

A spring groaned as aunt Jo stood from the couch, pointedly ignoring the beaten child before her, and walked over to her sister. Crossing her legs she watched as his mother unpacked the contents with hungry eyes.

Bernard watch lazily, silent as usual though his attention soon drifted from the women as they began to sample the drugs to the small child who had gotten to his knees.

"Don't think yer old man would have done that," he said with a smirk.

Swallowing down the blood that had seeped from the corner of his mouth, he didn't reply. Bernard would always play the psychological game with him, using words instead of fists to make him feel like the worst thing that had ever happened to the earth.

Still, the man's motives were no different from the others and he knew to stay out of arm's reach and on the alert. Bernard wouldn't act as quickly, being married to Jo and all, but he acted nonetheless if given the chance.

"That yer problem; you ain't got a dad. Women don't understand us."

Still not speaking, he got to his feet, averting the older male's eyes. It became frighteningly clear where Bernard was heading with this; it wasn't the first time that the man had tried to lure him to his home under the false hope of having a father.

"Yer mother is right; you are worthless. To her. Me? I don't think so." Sitting up and leaning with his elbows on his knees, he ran his dark eyes over the beaten face. "You give me what I want and I give you what you want."

The new position brought the man closer to him and he stepped back. "I can't go," was all he could say.

"Oh? Why is that? Because you belong here with your family?" he snorted, "Tell me, boy, in whose bed did you spend last night? Fritz looked much more...happy...than I last saw him."

The redness of his swollen cheeks hid his blush and he dropped his eyes to his feet, watching as he nervously nudged the floor with his toe. A whiff of weed entered his senses and he turned to see his mother and her sister happily sharing a joint, muttering quietly amongst themselves as they reclined on the rug.

He regretted taking his eyes off him because suddenly Bernard lunged forward and wrapping his arms around the slightly trembling body, which now stiffened with fright, he pulled the boy in his lap, forcing the head to rest on his broad chest.

The gesture, which normally meant warmth and love, brought on cold and dread instead and he remained absolutely motionless. Except for his eyes, which darted towards the two women, hoping that Jo would have something to say about her husband's behaviour.

"You're like ice. Let me warm you," Bernard whispered into his ear but he shivered even more.

His hope flared when, before the hands could begin to wander, Jo turned towards them. Brushing a limp lock of blond hair from her face, she watched them with a noticeable sneer on her face though her words were not what he had hoped for.

"Take that to the room, Bernard. I don't wanna see you shagging that brat right before me."

"If you insist, dear." With a triumphant chuckle, he rose from the couch, cradling the boy tightly against him as his long legs carried them away.

Straining his neck, he looked over the broad shoulder, blue eyes wide with denial and wet with tears as he silently begged his mother to help him. Already he could feel the button and zipper of his jeans being opened.

His mother placed the joint between her lips and smirking, she gave him a small wave as he lost view of her around the corner.

Tbc…

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A/N: Jo and Bernard know that Tala is Matilda's son.

Sorry if things get a little confusing at times with which 'he' I am referring to but remember that Tala didn't have a name until he reached the abbey.

Read & Review, please.


	5. No Better Place

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one.

Warnings: see chapter one.

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am making no money off of this and I write with the sole intent to entertain.

* * *

The street was as empty as it was cold. Heavy snow had fallen during the night, coating the 'lawns' with thick white blankets and the road with slick clear ice. At least there was no strong winds. Instead, the air was simply freezing.

His jacket did nothing to stave off the cold and he walked with his arms wrapped securely around him, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible. The bottom of his feet felt numb and it was with great effort that he could walk over the many patches of ice here and there.

But the cold could not numb the aches he felt with each step. Biting his lower lip to keep from crying out, he pushed on. He hadn't been given a task or anything like that, but he had needed out. Away from the 'family'. Away from the shame.

Everyone in the entire house, and probably the neighbours as well, had heard the noises coming from their 'guest room' last night. No one had wasted time in pointing it out that morning when he had finally found the strength to stand and get dress before going downstairs.

The older children jeered and taunted, laughing at his slow movements. Fritz had patted Bernard on the back and congratulated him. Aunt Jo, angered that her husband had spent the night with him instead of her, had continually called him all kind of names every time she saw him. And his mother? She herself emerged from her bedroom with a man no one had ever seen before. And they would probably never see him again as she had then shoved him out the door, extremely ticked when she caught him studying her youngest son with interested eyes.

Rubbing his arm, which she had twisted behind his back, blaming him for 'seducing' her lovers, he kept his eyes on the road beneath his feet, not looking left or right.

He had tried to put up with their crude cat-calls and painful touches but when Fritz began discussing 'techniques' of taking him with Bernard, really loudly to that, he could take it no more and had ran out of the house, eyes brimming with tears, their snide voices echoing in his head.

He startled when an angry beep blared from behind him. Jumping to the side just in time to avoid being crushed by the car, which was driving fast despite the slick roads, he somehow managed to catch his balance though he landed rather painfully on one knee. The driver shouted some obscene language while waving his fist and sped off.

Rising shakily to his feet, he was about to continue walking but a sound nearby caught his attention. Children's voices shouting and laughing. It was coming from behind the tall wooden fence that ran around an abandoned lot that had been empty for years though it was frequently used by the neighbourhood kids as a playground.

None of them came from well to do family. Some lived in houses even worse than his. Most kids didn't even wear shoes, despite the cold. Instead they were forced to wrap their freezing feet with old cloths for some form of protection. And there was even a small group of homeless children who lived in an old garage building a few blocks away. Yet, unlike him, they still had their innocence. They were still kids in body and soul. The only important thing in their lives was playing around. For him, surviving was the only reason for living.

There was a loose plank through which the kids always entered. Pushing it aside, he silently slipped through the fence, wincing as the action aggravated his sore body. Ducking immediately behind the wide tree trunk that dominated the corner, he peeked around it.

Today the crowd was less as it was so cold but there was about seven or eight kids standing around an old steel plate which had been crudely beaten into a dish-shaped form. Its metal surface rang as two blades battled each other.

"Take that, Subedrov!"

"Ha! I'm just warming up!"

"You can do it, Dominic!"

"Take him down!"

He watched with longing eyes as the friends cheered each other on, mock threatening the other as their blades went at it in the dish. He watched as one of the boys helped a girl who was having problem adjusting something on her blade. He watched as the battle ended with one blade flying out of the dish. The competitors high-fived, laughing as they then proceeded to rough house. The others joined in, piling on top of the two as they threw loose handfuls of snow around.

"Hello."

The voice startled him and he backed away from the trunk, his back soon meeting the wooden wall. One of the girls had unknowingly wandered over while he had been distracted.

"Do you want to play?" she asked. He couldn't remember ever seeing her before so she was probably new here. And she obviously didn't know him since she was talking to him, something the others avoided.

Her voice was friendly and her eyes held no ill intentions but still he shook his head mutely.

"Why not? It's fun. Come on!" Despite his pained cry (his wrist had been sprained pretty painfully the night before) she grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him towards the others but he stood his ground.

"No!"

His desperate shout startled her and she immediately released him, stepping back with a confused look. It was then that she noticed the bruised wrist she had unintentionally hurt.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean--"

"Hey, what's going on here?"

The rest of the group must have heard the commotion and now stood before them. The leader, a lanky but tall boy of twelve years, regarded him with a scowl.

"Don't talk to this guy, Emma. He's a freak."

"He is?" She looked at him sceptically. "But, he seems nice--"

"He hardly ever talks and he lives in that beat up old house four streets away. The one we showed you yesterday. The lady and her kids use him as a slave and none of the other kids even go to school."

"He doesn't even have a beyblade!"

"I saw him eating out of the garbage can once!"

"My momma says that they are a disease to this neighbourhood."

"The biggest son works in my uncle's garage and he's always gloating that he sleeps with all his brothers and sisters. They're all plain sick!"

By now Emma had moved away from him, unconsciously wiping her hand off on her pants. Her friendly expression was gone, leaving behind disbelief and a tinge of pity. None of the boys felt the same way as they continued to gang up on him.

"Get out of here, reject!" The leader shoved him hard against the chest, placing sudden pressure on his chest. He gasped in pain and fell to his knees, gripping the pulsing pain. Even without his injuries, the boy was older and much taller than him and had more strength.

"Look at him! What a wimp! I barely touched him!" the other boy laughed, misinterpreting the red-head's reaction.

"No wonder everyone in that family touches him! He looks like a girl!"

That started another hail storm of teasing. They tugged at his hair and clothes, laughing as he tried to get away. Soon the touches turned to slaps and then punches. The girls stood a way off, watching with unsure expressions until the boys finally grew bored.

Forcing himself to his feet, he stumbled back, gasping painfully as wide blue eyes watered in agony, fear and shame. His shirt was torn, exposing some of the dark colouring around his bruises. He wanted to cry. His lower lip trembled, wanting to let loose a sob.

"Aw, pretty little boy is gonna cry? Why don't ya go home and let someone hug you?" The rest of the boys cracked up with laughter but the girls remained quiet, watching the small boy with sympathetic eyes.

Unable to face them anymore, he turned and walked away, holding back the tears as much as possible. He wasn't further than twenty feet when his resolve broke and he could feel the wetness running down his face. The laughter behind him grew louder as the boys heard his sobs. He picked up the pace and was soon running at full speed.

His body cried out furiously for him to stop but he couldn't. He didn't want to. He wanted to run forever. He never wanted to stop, to hear those voices as they put him down. The world was a blur as he ran and he wished it to stay like that. He couldn't see anyone and no one could see him, or so he hoped.

No one could catch him.

No one could hurt him.

Finally, long after having lost sight of the playground, and even his neighbourhood, he slowed to a light trot as he neared the bridge that connected his wretched world with the great city of Moscow. A guard post was stationed at the foot of the bridge, the man inside was normally there to check any suspicious cars that entered the city for drugs or other illegal possessions. But today the small hut was empty. Probably because not many people were out on the road.

His sides were stabbing him with pain and he had to take deep breaths as he walked, coming to lean against the cold stone side of the bridge. Wrapping his arms around him, he sat down, looking through the spacing between the ornate posts down at the river beneath him with wet eyes.

The river's surface was frozen over but beneath the layer of ice he could see the water still flowing. A small family of ducks waddled on the slippery ice, quacking as they slid across the slick surface. The mother was using her beak to push her young ducklings across, the fuzzy chicks looking like downy balls as they flapped their tiny wings to keep balance.

He rested his head against the cold stone as he watched the family, a small smile on his lips when one duckling strayed to far, causing the mother to quack rather angrily as she went after it, ushering it back to its siblings. There were seven babies in total, waddling about on little feet, keeping together for warmth and protection.

He watched them until they were all safely across, following their mother with stubby tails as they disappeared beneath some snow covered thickets, leaving him behind.

Alone. As always.

Pulling his knees to his chest, he wrapped his arms around them and rested his cheek on them, closing his eyes, trying to imagine what it would be like to have a family. One who cared for him like any real family should. One whose members would hold him like a child instead of a bed mate. One where he had brothers and sisters with whom he could talk and play.

He couldn't. He couldn't picture it. Everything was just so tainted with pain and shame. Every touch had brought tears to his eyes and every word had brought grief to his heart. He would never have what others had. Pain was destined to be his only companion for the rest of his life it seemed. The self-pity he would feel all day and relive all night. Doubt and distrust were forever engraved in his soul. He couldn't recall one happy moment in his life. Not one.

"But..." He lifted his head as a thought came to him.

He had never had a happy moment in his life...but he had had one in which he had felt no pain, tears or shame. A few minutes out of the years of his existence, but they had been minutes that had been...tolerable. And for once, he had not been frowned down upon. Instead, perhaps, he had been understood.

"No. I'm being stupid. No one wants me around."

Despite his words he began to picture a pair of red eyes that had held a light of curiosity and mystery. The first person ever who had touched him without hurting him or who hadn't teased him. It had been as close as being treated equally as he had ever gotten.

The man's, Boris', words replayed themselves in his mind; "Tomorrow you will all be training out in the woods."

He played with a red lock of hair, torn between his past experiences and his hope for another chance. What did he have to lose except a few more tears? He had felt heartache all his life, one more wasn't going to make a difference.

Sniffing as he wiped his eyes, he stood, his muscles painful as he stretched them. He looked back towards his neighbourhood, tempted to stop his stupid hoping before it made him do something he would later regret. Instead, though, he turned and started off towards Moscow and its vast woods around it.

Tbc…

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	6. No Longer Strangers

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the sole intent to entertain.

* * *

He heard the voices before he saw them. It had taken him some time to find the location of the Abbey again but once he found it he had simply begun to walk about the forest, hoping that they weren't too far away. They weren't.

Creeping up behind a thickly grown mass of bramble, he peeked over the thorns and his eyes widened.

The man had said that Kai would be training in the woods but before him some thirty kids were scattered as they shouted orders to the spinning tops that cut through the snow with practiced accuracy.

Looking around, he was excited to catch a glimpse of blue hair on the edge of the clearing.

Kai was locked in an intense battle with a lilac-haired boy, both in deep concentration as their blades smashed and slammed into each other in the dish. Four men stood around them; two were dressed in white coats and were taking notes while the other two were guards.

This piqued his curiosity. Why did Kai and the other boy need so many guards? None of the other kids had someone looking over them; the rest of the guards seemed to be there to protect them or something.

Despite his hurting body, he kept low as he made his way around the clearing, making sure to stay hidden behind the trees and shrubs. It was as cold in the forest as in the streets but at least the trees provided barriers to prevent the winds from reaching them. The snow crunched beneath his feet but the shouts of the bladers covered up the noise.

He soon found himself just a few feet away from where Kai and his opponent were still going at it. From this side he could see the other boy's face. Pale purple eyes, the same shade as his hair, were intent and focus as he followed the progress of the blades. He was pretty pale but caught in the heat of the battle he looked menacing.

"Falborg, Stroblitz!" he suddenly shouted, startling the red-head.

"Fire arrow, Dranzer!" Kai countered.

The huge blast caused everyone else to stop what they were doing and turn to the two. He himself fell to his stomach, eyes wide with fright at the sudden noise and bright light.

"Dranzer's the winner!" one of the men who had been taking notes said.

"Back to your training!" a guard barked at the other kids who quickly did as they were told.

" Bryan," the lilac-haired blader looked up, "your power levels aren't high enough. Return to the lab for a blade upgrade."

"Yes, sir," the boy said obediently, picking up his blade and following a guard off the ground to disappear into the trees.

"Well done, Kai. You are finish for now. We will be heading back in half an hour."

This must have been a sign that he was dismissed because Kai nodded and, picking up his blade, he also left the training area. But he went in the other direction, long scarf flowing behind him.

Seeing his chance, he got up from where he had been crouched down and began to follow the bluenette who weaved in and out of the trees, obviously knowing where he was going.

It was hard to follow the swift gait of the bluenette, especially with his pains, and the further they walked the quieter the woods got, his cover-up soon fading along with the voices. He had to move extra slow to make less sound and he soon lost sight of the bluenette.

Stopping, he stood there, breathing heavily as he tried to figure out what to do now. If he went too far he could get lost. But he had really wanted to see this boy; this person who had seemed to understand him for but a few moments.

"Why did you come back?"

He yelped and slipped, landing with a squeak on the snow-covered ground. Spitting out snow, he looked behind him to find the same bluenette who he had been following. Had Kai known he was there all along and had doubled back when he had been distracted?

"You shouldn't be here."

Quickly scrambling to his feet, he backed away, suddenly thinking that this may not have been such a good idea. Kai's voice was cold and harsh and his face too. Dressed in dark clothes with the exception of the long, white scarf, he reminded him of those imposing guards.

"It's dangerous here." Kai took a step forward.

"I-I'm sor-sorry!" he stuttered.

Once more, the frost burned away in those fiery eyes. Watching him silently, Kai walked up to him until they stood a foot apart. Raising a hand, Kai ran his fingertips down a bruised cheek, pulling away when he flinched.

"Come on." Taking him gently but firmly by an arm, Kai began to lead him through the trees.

"W-Where are we go-going?"

"It's not safe here," was the simple answer. Picking up the pace, he almost made the redhead stumble as he tried to keep up. Over snow covered logs and down winding trails they almost jogged. Kai kept looking back every now and then as if to make sure they were still alone.

Just when he thought he was going to collapse in exhaustion, Kai slowed down. Peeping over a shoulder, he saw that they stood before a massive tree whose trunk was more than three meters in diameter. Near the ground, half-hidden by more brush, was an opening big enough for only a child to pass through.

Releasing him, Kai crawled through it, motioning for him to follow. He was reluctant at first but standing alone on the outside made him feel very vulnerable so he relented and followed, his thin frame easily passing through.

He didn't know what to expect but gasped once inside. The trunk had been hollowed out making a hidden chamber some two meter high within the ancient tree; it had probably been an animal's den or shelter before being abandoned. The ground was covered with pine needles and the air wasn't as cold as outside. In one corner there was a large wooden box with a lock. Next to that was a small pile of folded blankets which Kai now took and spread over the ground.

He followed the bluenette's lead when Kai sat down, shrugging off his heavy, black coat and wrapping himself in a soft blanket, handing the younger boy one too which he gratefully accepted, the material warming him better than any clothes he had ever had.

For many minutes they just sat there, still breathing heavily as they studied one another.

"Why did you come back?" Kai repeated his question from earlier.

"I…I don't know…" he admitted. "But…y-you were nice to me. Nobody has ever been nice t-to me before and…"

Kai himself was curious of the new boy. He wondered at the state of poor clothing the boy wore in the weather. The thin, frail appearance also piqued his interest.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, thinking that some food would do the redhead good.

Actually, he was starving, as always, but he merely nodded.

Shifting through the large box, Kai produced to packets and returned to the blanket. He handed one of the small containers to him and opened his own. Not knowing what they were but mimicking Kai's action, he pulled off the top.

Two rolls of bread, some cheese, dried fruit and meats; he had never seen so much food in his life and for a moment all he could do was stare at it. Kai was already nibbling on his food, watching with calculating eyes as the redhead slowly picked up a bread roll and tentatively took a small bite. The blue eyes widened and he quickly finished it, reaching for the other as his stomach demanded more.

Something wasn't right here. Kai had never seen anyone as hungry as this boy. Hadn't he ever eaten before? Where did he come from?

Soon he was down to his last piece of fruit and looked sadly at the now empty container. When a half-full one was placed before him he looked up at Kai who smiled softly.

"I'm going to eat when I get back anyways," he explained.

"Thank you," he said, finally sating his hunger as he finished Kai's ration.

Feeling well fed for the first time in a very long time, he sighed and wiped his mouth. A cup of milk was placed in his hand.

"W-Where do you get all this?" he asked, sipping at the contents. He had never tasted fresh milk. What little he could get at home has usually gone bad long before.

"The food?" Kai asked perplexed. "From the Abbey."

"Won't they get mad that you took it?"

"They have more than enough to feed everyone. Besides, these are meant for field training anyways. The food in the cafeteria is much better than this."

Better? This had been the best meal he had ever had!

"What's your name?" Kai suddenly asked.

"Huh?" he blinked, still sipping his milk, not wanting it to end.

"Your name?"

He blinked again. His name? He had been called many names before but he didn't think that that was what the bluenette meant.

"Um…I don't have one."

Kai looked surprised.

"Everyone has a name."

"I guess I lost mine."

"You can't lose a name…can you?" Kai asked sceptically. "What do people call you?"

"Mean things," he admitted, averting eyes to study his hands that were clasped before him. "No one really likes me."

"What about your mom?"

"She really, really doesn't like me." His hand drifted up to touch a bruised shoulder unconsciously. "That's why I don't want to stay home. It hurts to stay home."

"It hurts no matter where I am," Kai said, eyes straying to the entrance of the hide-away, and what he knew laid beyond that, surrounded by spiked fence and guarded by mean men.

"Does your mama hurt you too?" he asked the bluenette.

"I don't have a mama or papa…anymore. Grandpa says that they don't want me."

A shrill whistle from deep in the forest startled him but Kai merely stood, shrugging off his blanket and neatly folding it.

"I have to go; they're going back."

"Can I come?" he asked.

Kai looked at him as if he was crazy.

"You don't wanna go there," he finally said, putting on his coat.

"You're going," he pointed out, rising to his knees, worrying his lower lip; he didn't want to leave the bluenette already.

"I have to. He'll be mad with me if I'm late." The slight wavering of his voice emphasized this as an important factor that needed to stay in consideration.

He shoulders slumped and he nodded, removing the warm blanket and immediately missing it as the cold drafted over him once more. He shivered violently; it was as if having taking off the blanket had erased all forms of comfort, leaving him once more in the harsh environment that was his life.

Something thick yet soft made contact with his shoulders once more and he jumped involuntarily, wrapping his arms around him for protection though it wasn't needed as it was only Kai who was kneeling before him without his coat which he had draped over him. Touching the rich material disbelievingly, he looked at the bluenette, perplexed.

"Do you remember how to get here?" Kai asked him though turning to rummage in the wooden crate.

"I think so…" he admitted, even more surprised when several wrapped packets of food were placed before him.

"Meet me here the day after tomorrow. Come after sunset."

Not giving him a chance to speak, the bluenette crawled out, leaving him to quickly gather the packs and follow.

"Kai, your jacket--"

"Keep it. Follow me."

He did, too much happening for him to really understand. They walked fast and accurate, Kai knowing the grounds well. They soon found themselves on the path that led out of the woods and into the city. Kai looked longingly at the buildings in the near distance for a while before facing him.

"Promise you'll come?" he asked softly, his arms folded across his chest to stave off the chill he was beginning to feel more and more without his jacket.

Those scarlet eyes studied him for a moment then without another word, Kai stepped pass him and headed back down the path, leaving him to stare in stunned silence. The black clothes quickly blended the bluenette into the shadows of the trees and the last visible sign of the boy was the long scarf which seemed to wave at him before it too vanished from sight.

For many minutes he just stood there, blinking as if in a dream as he stared down the now empty path. All that remained of Kai's presence was the jacket and food rations which he cradled closer to his body. With a final blink he broke himself out of the trance and began to make his way back to civilization.

It wasn't until he reached the bridge he had crossed earlier and looked at his reflection in the frozen water below that he realized he was smiling.

Tbc…

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	7. No Comfort To Be Had

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: R

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the solely to entertain.

* * *

In any house, old or new, the basement is the place where no child under the age of twelve dares to venture alone. Those narrow steps that lead down into the dark pit are enough to intimidate a youngster's naïve mind. Shadows reign supreme a few feet down, cloaking horrible things that wait for their victims to enter their realm before dragging them off to be swallowed by the blackness. Basements are simply put the scariest places on earth…

For children with loving families; families to who they could run and cuddle as assurances were whispered in their ears, gentle arms holding them against a warm body as hands smoothed their ruffled hair. Fathers would fetch a flashlight to search the underground chamber, well aware that it was as harmless as the rest of the house, only doing as if to ease their sons or daughters nerves. Mothers would give them a sweet treat with some juice before settling them in their laps as they read out of their favourite books, playing the parts of the characters by changing their voice, awarded when the child would begin to smile before giggling at certain parts.

He wasn't sure if this is what really happened; he personally had never experienced it, but he was pretty sure it did. Besides, his point of view differed greatly from his more fortunate peers. Compared to what he had to endure in the house, their basement was a sanctuary, a cold and isolated retreat where he would go to lick his wounds.

It wasn't anything out of the ordinary as far as size was concerned but seeing as it was packed from wall to wall, floor to ceiling made it deceivingly small. Rotting cardboard boxes filled with broken household artefacts took up most of the space though mingled amongst them were bits and pieces of things he couldn't begin to understand their purpose; a bicycle without wheels, a couple of crooked chairs whose wooden frames were swollen, several panes of glass that had been bought months ago with the intent to repair the windows though now they leaned dejectedly amongst the piles, some of them broken and their shards littering the floor. The air was thick with the smell of old and had the unpleasant odour of water that had been standing still for too long. Green mould grew on the damp, bare walls. The only source of light was a narrow window a few feet from the ceiling at ground level though the snow and overgrown weeds on the outside obscured what little light the day had to offer.

It wasn't a pleasant environment, but it was one of the very few things, if not the only thing, he could consider his. No one else had been down here for almost a year, mainly because the amount of junk was so great that it made it impossible for them to navigate through the room. Being the smallest member of the house he could crawl beneath and between the boxes. Their mother had barked to Fritz and Evan, the second eldest son, not too long ago to clean out the basement. Of course Fritz hadn't, flipping her off and calling her a few names of choice before throwing a fit and smashing some of the few entire plates they had in the kitchen. Evan did the expected; he disappeared. Of the nine he was rarely at home, spending up to weeks at a friend's pad where the group of them smoked and slept all day.

The only reason why he didn't simply chose to hide from the others in the basement too often and long was because it was always cold, even in summer. Sometimes, when things simply got too unbearable upstairs he'd retreat to down here, curling into a shivering ball in a corner for the night, but by morning he was forced to resurface in hopes of some warmth. At the moment the cold concrete of the floor bit at his feet through his socks but at least the rest of him was warm, wrapped in the thickness of the coat.

He was pretty sure Kai had loan, not given, him the coat so he went to great lengths to keep it as clean as possible. This morning he had even gotten up extra early to fill a bucket with water from the kitchen sink and using a strip of cloth he had proceeded to wash himself as best he could, the cold water causing goose bumps to rise on his skin to he hadn't stopped until his true skin colour was revealed once more, along with some bruises and cuts here and there. Finding the cleanest clothes he owned, he had put them on and it was only then that he replaced the jacket, noting for the first time that it was a bit too big for him. Kai was taller than him by maybe an inch or so, but the main cause was that he was far thinner than the bluenette.

After making sure no one saw him, he had slipped back down into the basement, carefully making his way through the boxes to the back where he had hidden the rations. Placing several thin blankets he had taken from upstairs on the floor, he sat himself down, burying his feet in the cloths in hopes to warm his toes. As he picked up one of the plastic containers he felt a stab of guilt within him at the thought of keeping the food from the others, especially the kids who were but a few years older than him. He had considered sharing the rations but early experience taught him that his charity would leave him with nothing for himself; the bigger children would take everything without a word of thanks.

Pushing aside the guilt trip, he finished the pack. Today was the first time he had ever eaten breakfast and lunch and if things went well he'd also have dinner. Food does wonders; not only did his stomach no longer ache but his bruises seemed to hurt a lot less too. Kai's coat collected his body heat and kept it close, the warmth, and full stomach, making him doze lightly in the mere comfort of it all.

'Tomorrow…Tomorrow I'll see him again…'

Smiling into the fabric, he curled into a smaller ball and fell sound asleep.

* * *

Whether it was the loud crash or the screams that woke him he couldn't tell but the commotion from upstairs jolted him out of his sleep. Slightly disoriented, he rubbed his eyes, looking up to see night had fallen as the world beyond the small window was dark. He usually didn't sleep so long, except when unconscious (which didn't really count as sleep), but the combination of full stomach and warm body had intoxicated him.

Once his eyes had adjusted well enough he hesitated for a few moments before deciding to risk creeping up the stairs to see what was happening; the loud voices had by now escalated and multiplied as others joined in. Another crash, sounding like a bottle, shattered along with a pained cry. Above him the ceiling creaked as someone stomped across the floor of the living room, knocking loose dust and cobwebs which trickled down on him, making him sneeze.

Jumping to his feet, he removed the jacket, shaking it out to remove the debris before folding it neatly and placing it in the box nearby where he kept the rations. Throwing the blankets on top to conceal the precious items, he crawled through the secret path towards the stairs and after a few deep breaths he climbed them, the wood creaking softly beneath his lithe weight.

Opening the door a bit, he peaked into the hall first to make sure it was empty before slipping out, feeling strangely exposed and vulnerable in his own house. Alone didn't fall in the category as his ears were assailed by the cursed threats that were being spawned in the living room. Up here he could discern Fritz's voice along with Bernard's as the two older males voiced their opinion on whatever the argument was about. He didn't have the opportunity to reach the living room as his mother stormed out, eyes flowing with tears which ran over her cheeks. Her bruised cheeks; someone had hit her.

"KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOUR OWN SLUT, FUCKER!!"

"KEEP YER NOSE OUT OF ADULTS' BUSINESS, BRAT!!"

Enough heard. From the slur in his booming voice their uncle was drunk. Very drunk. And a drunken Bernard is one of the most unstable persons he knew period. Unstable enough to attempt a move on his sister-in-law. Again. At least this time his mother had come out of it with her clothes still moderately intact.

"DON'T PUSH ME, OLD MAN!!"

Fritz was sober but livid. The relationship between him and their mother was based merely off tolerance, but while he himself would argue with their mother on many occasions, calling her names that were less than flattering, he never raised more than his voice at her. The other females of the household were treated the same as the males, but Fritz, be it basic instinct or some shrewd sense of morality, never brought any physical ailment upon their mother. So it went without saying that Bernard fondling and then hitting her had earned him Fritz's ire. Their uncle wasn't a smart man but even a fool knew that that was a very bad thing.

Sure enough, the sound of flesh striking flesh issued a fight. A few members fled the scene, shoving past him as they retreated. Others remained, cheering Fritz on. Their eldest was the most likely to be victorious; next to having youth and a well-functioning mind, Fritz had been taught a few fight techniques by Jacob as he sometimes visited the brawler.

The memory of Jacob's angered shouts made him shiver. Once word reached their home of how he stole that package it will be him in Bernard's place as Fritz would be more than pissed off; he looked up to Jacob, for some reason. And then there was their mother…

Her bruised face appeared in his mind and without really considering it, he edged past the doorway to the living room, sparing a glance to see that Fritz had Bernard on the floor, pounding the other's head with his fist as he continued to curse him. Once at the foot of the stairway he made his way to the end of the hall where the door had been left slightly ajar in the woman's retreat.

She was lying on her bed with her back to the door, curled up on her side, not looking up until he walked around the bed and stood before her. Watery eyes studied his before she shuffled back slightly, patting the mattress. He obeyed, climbing onto the bed beside her. It was only then that he realized that her pants were torn.

A hand lightly touched his cheek, tracing the somewhat faded bruise which she studied. He mirrored the gesture, gently running his fingers over the fresh imperfection. Her long nails scraped the back of his neck as she pulled him down and placed a kiss on the darkened skin. It was unexpected, as was when she embraced him, making him lie beside her as she ran fingers through his hair silently, teary eyes fixed on the window.

At first he froze, awaiting the slap or shove that usually accompanied any sign of care, but nothing came. Soon his tense muscles relaxed and he dared to snuggle closer to which she didn't object. He wasn't a fool; he knew this for what it was. It was just temporary. Too upset at the moment, she was only comforting herself. Once the feeling past things would go back to how they've always been. But for now he held onto the moment tightly, eyes drooping at the soothing motion of her hands gently stroking his back.

Footsteps outside went unheard until the bedroom door opened. Fritz stood silhouetted against the pale hall light, his boots heavy on the floor as he walked around the bed to face her. His brown eyes took in the two were they lay for a moment before kneeling down, raising a hand to touch the dark bruise on her face. She flinched and he withdrew; his fingers and hand slightly smudged with Bernard's blood. His eyes fell onto her ripped pants and his fists curled tightly but he said nothing, instead he sat their, watching her as she cuddled the small red-head. Only when her tears stopped did Fritz stand, seemingly satisfied that she was better.

He had almost slipped off to sleep during the silence when hands wrapped around him, pulling him from her arms. Knowing a lost cause when presented with one, he surrendered himself but was surprised when she batted Fritz's hands away, pulling her youngest back against her, lifting her eyes to meet her eldest.

"No," was all she said, emphasizing her words by tucking the child's head under her chin.

Fritz's scowled darkly but assented, rising to his feet, empty handed.

"Skank," he muttered and walked out, closing the door behind him with a click.

"No," she repeated, softer this time, smoothing his clothes which Fritz had ruffled. "No…"

Any other muttering was lost to him as he slipped back into the dream world. Two meals were more than enough for today; until she forcibly pushed him away, he was not leaving this bed.

Tbc…

* * *

Read & Review, please. 


	8. No More Tears

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the solely to entertain.

* * *

To his relief the rain had let up an hour before night fall. The grounds were still soaked from the day's showers, forcing him to slowly make his way to his destination to prevent slipping on the slick mud or frozen patches of water. The air around him was thick with post-rain moisture, the fresh scent of stirred earth clinging as he went along. Behind him the night life of Moscow was stirring, before him the forest slept on as always, dark and looming as the trees became thicker.

He sneezed unexpectedly, the sound echoing beyond the shadowy trunks, making his blue eyes widened and his body freeze, like a deer caught in a car's headlights, but nothing stirred. Sniffing softly, he pulled the coat tighter around him and dared to continue, still eyeing the area uncertainly for any sign of activity. By now the density of trees had blocked out any view of the city behind him.

He had told Kai that he knew the way, which wasn't a complete lie; he would have been able to find the hide-out on his own…during daytime. Now, with everything cloaked in night shade, he hesitated too often, torn between what he knew and what he dared. Was it just him, or did the right directions seem darker and scarier?

In the middle of debating whether he had to turn left at the thorn bush or right at the fallen log he began to step forward when a deep sound vibrated above his head, startling him badly enough to lose his footing and trip. Ignoring the slight throb on his left side, he twisted around, frantically searching the branches for the source. For a moment he breath caught in his throat to see large, luminous orbs peering down at him and it wasn't until the figure repeated the sound that he realized it was just an owl.

Relieved, he shakily got to his feet, thoughts immediately going to the jacket. Sure enough, he could feel the sliminess of mud smeared on the cloth. Any attempts to wipe it off only served to spread it even more. He couldn't give Kai his jacket back like this! Maybe he should hide it for now, pick it up on his way back home and wash it…

Something landed on his shoulder, earning a small cry out of him at its suddenness. His struggles only escalated when a hand covered his mouth, someone pulling him back against them.

"Shh!"

He stopped when a now familiar voice hissed in his ears. The hands released him and Kai stepped back, giving him a once over to make sure he wasn't hurt. There was no way he could hide the jacket. Not that Kai would be asking for it anytime soon though. To his surprise the bluenette had another jacket on, its dark colour was swallowed up by night. In fact, he wouldn't have been able to tell if the person before him really was Kai if it hadn't been for the voice and the white scarf which managed to stand out even in the shadows.

"Did you hurt anything?" Kai asked when he remained silent. He shook his head. "Come on then."

A hand grabbed his and he was once again led away though unlike two days ago he felt no wariness, allowing Kai to lead the way.

"H-How did you find me?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I kinda guessed that you'd have trouble getting here," Kai answered truthfully, releasing his hand to climb over a pile of logs, holding him once more for balance as he did the same. "But you were on the right track."

Soon enough the looming trunk appeared, a strange orange light visible from within. A fire? Kai didn't give him a chance to ask, letting go and disappearing through the narrow entrance with him following closely only to almost retreat when he caught sight of the light source burning within.

He had guessed right that it was fire; it was understandable that he hadn't considered that what was feeding the bright orange and red flames was a large bird! Upon their entrance a fire wreathed head raised from where it had been peacefully dozing on the ground. Shimmering eyes quickly recognized Kai before fixing on him, the fire bird tilting its head to one side.

"Don't be afraid," Kai soothed, taking his hand and pulling him back in. "She won't hurt you."

Despite Kai's faith in the creature's capabilities, he remained close to the bluenette, his eyes never leaving the bird. Her, according to Kai this was a female, bearings weren't threatening as she seemed to have been resting, her wings folded against her body. Three extremely long tail feathers encircled the inner radius of the trunk, the middle and lengthiest just a foot or so away from the two boys from their spot at the entrance. Flames licked at the glowing feathers yet didn't even singe the leaves the bird was laying on.

"Her name is Dranzer," Kai informed. "She's my bit beast."

Too overwhelmed to even ask what he meant by that, he nodded, ready to agree with anything the bluenette said. When he felt hands on his back trying to urge him forward he resisted, turning wide eyes on Kai.

"W-What…?"

"Trust me," was all the bluenette said and he found himself doing just that, allowing Kai to inch him closer to the bird who watched the slow progress with a cocked head, her long mane almost reaching the floor. Once they were only a foot away from her Kai reached out and she obediently lowered her head, flames getting dangerously close to the boy's fingers. To his horror Kai closed the distance, rubbing the feathers between those vivid eyes.

"Be careful!" he spoke before thinking, grabbing Kai's hand back. He expected to find burns and blisters but the skin was unblemished, only ever so slightly reddened. Confused, he met Kai's eyes to find the bluenette watching him with an amused smile on his face. His cheeks warmed and he knew he was blushing, releasing Kai's hand. "I didn't want you to get hurt…"

"Dranzer would never hurt me," Kai assured. "She's my best friend."

Said friend leaned in slightly, eyeing him curiously. He tried to back off but found his back against Kai's chest, trapped. Worrying his lower lip, he could only watch helplessly as Kai took his hand in his, lifting it to lightly graze the large bird's beak. The expected burn never came, to his surprise, even as a few of the flickering flames ran over his hand, evaporating in thin air. Mesmerized, he dared to lift his hand higher, touching the space between the eyes like Kai had earlier. She allowed it, turning her head to nuzzle in his hand.

"She likes you," Kai said, smiling softly. "She doesn't burn people she likes."

Finally at ease, he gave the bird a last pat before withdrawing.

"Where did you find her?" he asked. Granted, his knowledge of nature was pretty limited, but common sense was more than sufficient to tell him that large, burning birds were not an everyday appearance.

"I got her last year. She lives in my beyblade." He held up the blue blade. "But I let her out everyday; she must get pretty lonely in there."

He looked at the small blade, then at the large bird, then back at the beyblade before regarding Kai with a quizzical look.

"Isn't it too small for her? How does she get in?"

Rolls were reversed as Kai now studied his, bemused.

"She's a bit beast."

"What's that?"

Silence for a moment.

"Don't you have a beyblade?"

Feeling strangely guilty, he shook his head.

"I don't have a lot of things."

Saying so reminded him of the jacket and he shrugged it off, warily staring at the brown stains before handing it to the bluenette.

"It got dirty when I fell…I can clean for you! I promise I'll bring it back tomorrow."

Kai barely glanced at the stains, crimson eyes on him.

"It's okay," he assured and then, to his surprise, removed the jacket he now wore, handing it to him. "Mud's easy to get out; I can clean it back at the Abbey. You can get this one until then."

Get? Until then?

"I don't understand," he admitted even as Kai placed the jacket in his arms. The bluenette wore a thick sweater but why was Kai giving him another one of his jackets? "But…what if this one gets dirty too? I don't want to spoil your things."

"This one is yours," Kai explained as he folded said jacket. "Don't worry; once it's been cleaned it will be as good as new. I get them dirty all the time."

"You're…giving that one to me?"

"I have six jackets; it's not like I can wear them all at once. It's going to get colder and I don't want you catching a cold or anything."

He couldn't speak for many moments, mainly staring stunned at Kai's attentiveness. It felt so strange, having someone who showed any interest in him other than an easy lay. Realizing he should say something he stammered a few times before finally stringing a sufficient amount of words together to form a sentence.

"W-Why are you…doing thi-this?"

A hand gently touched the now vague colouring of what was once a bruise on his cheek. For a moment he was struck with the realization that the markings on Kai's face reminded him of bruises themselves.

"Because no one else has," was the soft answer. "Because no one should hurt…"

Dranzer leaned in, nuzzling Kai's face with soothing chirps, earning a smile once more from the bluenette. He was surprised when the fire bird gave him the same treatment, tugging gently on the red bangs so similar in colour to her feathers. Giggling at the ticklish feeling as she nuzzled his neck, he relaxed, the warmth of her body comforting in a paternal way. He didn't even notice that Kai had stood until the bluenette sat back down next to him, handing him a ration pack.

They fell in silence, sitting side by side as they ate. He tried offering a piece of the bread to Dranzer but she eyed it with mere curiosity as Kai explained that bit beast didn't eat. After their meal Kai pulled out a small container from the backpack he had brought along. Inside it were several square pieces of something brown.

"Chocolate brownies," he announced, taking one and handing it to him. "The cooks made a lot today."

He had never eaten anything sweet in his entire life and was taken back at the taste; it was utter bliss taking that first bite. Licking his fingers clean, he was surprised to be handed another but accepted it graciously. Finally, after having eaten five, they were done, which was good as he was starting to feel a bit queasy.

"Maybe you ate too much," Kai concluded, feeling his forehead. "One time I ate a whole bag of candy and I got really sick and had to throw up." He shook his head. "You're not that sick; you stopped in time."

Before he could answer a sudden crack of lightning lit up the world outside the trunk, startling them both at its suddenness. A few seconds later the steady beat of rain gushed down in heavy curtains, instantly blurring the view of the woods beyond the entrance.

He sighed. It was going to be a long way home with an uneasy stomach and heavy rain. He must have spoken his thoughts out-loud because Kai shook his head.

"It's dangerous to walk through the woods in a thunder storm. We'll have to wait." With that he scooted over to Dranzer where the bird had been contently sleeping. One fiery eye opened to regard her young master and a great wing rose, held suspended in the air as Kai placed a few blankets on the ground.

"Lie down; it'll make you feel better," the bluenette instructed when he crawled over in curios inspection. "Dranzer's flames will keep us warm and dry."

Stomach full and mind slightly lulled, he allowed the bluenette to gently pull him over until he was resting on the thick blankets against the bird's soft side. The flames ran over his skin, leaving pleasant warmth in their wake. Sighing, he turned onto his side as Kai stretched out next to him. The wing lowered, forming a heated cover till their chest.

"Aren't they going to be mad if you don't go back?" he asked, not really knowing who 'They' were but guessing that Kai answered to them when things came down to it. The bluenette faltered for a moment, his answer evasive.

"The rain will let up before morning; I can make it back by then."

Accepting the response, he took a definite position on his stomach though kept his eyes on Kai as the bluenette mirrored him, resting his head on folded arms, the crimson eyes still troubled despite his assurance. They fixed on him when he lightly touched Kai's face, offering a sleepy smile. Kai returned both gestures.

"Good night," he whispered softly

"Good night."

Despite his efforts he soon surrendered to sleep, lulled by the pattering rain outside and Kai's steady breathing next to him. He kept his eyes on the scarlet pair till sleep finally set in.

Tbc…

* * *

Read & Review, please. 


	9. No More Drama

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be touched. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the sole intent to entertain.

* * *

A sudden force shook him awake. Springing to awareness, he sat up, almost knocking Kai over where the bluenette had been leaning over him, shaking him by the shoulders.

"Get up," the bluenette whispered quickly, "You have to leave."

"W-What--umph!"

"Shh!" Kai scolded, removing his hand when the red-head nodded, blue eyes wide. "Don't talk so loud. Come on, I'll bring you back to the path."

The bluenette's uneasiness put him on the edge as well but before he could ask anything else Kai crawled to the entrance, peeking out a few seconds before impatiently waving him over.

"Don't come back here anymore."

"Kai?" he asked, worried and scared.

"It's too dangerous. Go home and never come back."

His eyes began to water at the words but he was too late in forming any words as Kai grabbed his wrist and hauled him outside and to his feet.

"Come on."

Stumbling behind the other boy, still slightly sleep-logged and feeling pretty scared, he almost tripped over his own feet in fright when a shrill whistle echoed through the trees in the distance. The sound of dogs barking began, along with voices shouting.

"Kai!?" he cried, looking behind them though nothing appeared from the shadows.

"Don't look back!" Kai ordered, his own heart pounding in his chest.

The sounds seemed to have spread all around them, coming at them from all directions. In the dim light of early dawn the two children stumbled through the forest. At long last the forest path broke free of the trees, the tall buildings of Moscow now visible against the pinkened skies. Kai grabbed him by the shoulder, standing close enough that their warm breaths blew on the other's face, the ragged pants stirring bangs.

"They'll search the forest for weeks. It's too dangerous for you to come here again."

Blinking through confused tears, he shook his head, grabbing the bluenette's jacket when Kai tried to pull away.

"Who are searching? What's going to happen to you? Kai? Did I put you in trouble?"

Slender arms pulled him against Kai's chest as the bluenette rested his head against the red hair, holding the trembling boy despite his own fears.

"I'll be fine. I just don't want them to get you. Stay away from here."

"I want to see you again," he whispered. "Please say we will see each other again."

When Kai didn't reply he clenched his eyes shut, tears chilling his face in the cold morning air.

"I'm sorry," Kai muttered, releasing him. "We can't see each other anymore."

A loud bark uncomfortably close made them both jump. Kai's flaming eyes met his, the bluenette's face pale beneath the markings.

"Please…Go…"

When he didn't move Kai shoved him in the chest, voice tight with desperation, sounding angrier than he meant it to.

"Just go!"

Stumbling a few steps backwards, he caught himself, touching his chest where the force from Kai's shove stung slightly. Biting back a sob, he gave the bluenette a long look before turning and running down the path as fast as his legs could carry him, the wind whipping the tears from his face.

Watching the redhead go, Kai's own tears ran down his blue marked cheeks.

"They won't get you too…" he whispered.

Not a moment after the red-head had disappeared from view did the bushes to his left rustled as two large hounds burst through them, the first sighting its dark eyes on him at once. Pouncing, it tackled the bluenette to the ground, it large mouth clamping down on a sleeved arm, teeth puncturing clothe and flesh. Kai cried out, keeping as still as possible as to not to give the trained beast a reason to start trashing and rip his arm off.

Several more dogs appeared, barking and howling excitedly as they gathered around their found prey. The noise was so loud it made his ears ring. The shrill whistle only hurt his ears more but the dogs obeyed, his captor releasing his bloodied arm to trot over to the cloaked figure who stepped onto the path.

"Over here!" the guard shouted back and soon enough a group of black robed men materialized from the shadows of the trees. Amongst them, Boris' steely eyes glowered down on him.

"Out for a morning jog, young Kai?" he sneered. "On your feet!"

He rose, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes and face before cradling his wounded arm, giving the beast responsible an angry glare though it quickly vaporized when Boris stalked over to him.

"I asked you a question, Kai. What were you doing out here at this hour?"

"I…I…" He looked around, hoping the answer would fall from the sky. "I…forgot my jacket in the woods yesterday."

"Don't you dare lie to me, boy. I'm going to ask you once more; what were you doing out here?"

Before he could answer a duo of guards appeared with more hounds, one of the men holding something bungled in his arms.

"Sir," he saluted, holding out his load, "we found this along with several rations and blankets in a hollowed tree trunk several hundred meters further back."

Kai's stomach clenched. The man was holding the jacket the redhead had returned to him. Boris took it, examining it critically before sniffing it. His eyes narrowed to mere slits that he pinned onto the young boy before him.

"Is this yours, Kai?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why does it smell like hash?"

"Sir?" He had also noticed the alien scent on his jacket, and on the redhead for that matter, but had simply brushed it off as the smell of life beyond the Abbey's monitored wall.

"This cloth reeks of drugs."

Drugs? How could the smell of drugs get on his jacket? Did the other boy…?

"Kai!" Boris snapped when he didn't answer.

"I haven't touched any drugs, sir," he defended without thinking.

"I would know. Which means this jacket was worn by someone who did. Who?"

He winced at his slip-up.

"No one."

A heavy hand slapped him across his face but before he could fall the same hand grab him by his injured arm, yanking him up until he was face-to-face with his trainer as the man leaned forward, pale face red with unspent anger.

"Who have you been meeting in these woods, boy?!" he demanded, cruelly tightening his grip on the wounds.

He didn't answer, looking away to find the guards watching his pain with amused grins on their faces. Dropping his gaze, he was determined to weather it out.

Growling impatiently, Boris released him with a push, sending him down onto the hard ground and straightening himself, cold eyes putting the near sub-zero temperature around them to shame.

"Have it your way. Gordonov," he motioned to one of the guards, "I have too many important things to do for today to deal with our 'prime student' for now. I leave his punishment in your hands."

The man grinned widely at that, the other guards chuckling sinisterly as well.

"Anything specific, sir?" he asked, walking over to grab the boy by the upper arm.

Boris coolly met the bluenette's wide pleading stare as he answered.

"Be creative if you like," he permitted, "but make sure it will be something young Kai will not forget anytime soon."

"With pleasure, sir."

Lowering his head, Kai watched as the sun rose from behind the buildings of Moscow as he was roughly led back to the Abbey.

"Don't come back…" he whispered softly though no one could hear him. "Please…don't…"

* * *

"Hey! Watch it, you little rat!"

He could feel the angry man's eyes boring holes in his back but he didn't stop to apologize, leaving the man to pick up the boxes he had dropped when the boy had caught him off guard, turning the corner so suddenly there had been little chance of avoiding the collision. Ignoring the outraged remarks of the other pedestrians, he kept running down the street.

_"…stay away from here…" _

A horn blared as he blindly crossed the busy street, brakes screeching and cars swerving to avoid hitting the small boy.

_"…just go!..." _

Sobbing, he pushed on. He didn't care where he went. He just kept running, wishing the rushing air passing his ears could muffle those words that had hurt more than the shove.

'Why? Why must I mess everything up? Kai's going to get hurt; I just know it. And I abandoned him.'

Before he could go back into another long tirade of self-blame, he was jerked backwards when a hand grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Yelping, he twisted to find himself looking up at a policeman. The officer blinked for a moment as he took in the boy's fine features, but his face then hardened.

"A bit in a hurry so early in the morning, aren't you?"

"I…I…"

"Is there a problem, officer?" a new voice asked from behind and he forgot to breathe. Actually backing up into the officer's arms, he dared to look up to find a single silver eye staring down at him. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance."

"You know this boy?" the officer asked.

"Yeah, he's my sister's kid. He's been up to no good again, I see. I'll take him off your hands; on these streets you must have something better to do than write a report on a five year old brat," Jacob pointed out. "I was just going over to his mother; she must be very worried."

"Just make sure he stays off the streets." He released the redhead though the boy didn't move away, keeping the officer between him and the tower of a man.

"Don't try that puppy-dog look," Jacob convincingly berated, grabbing him by an arm. "Always getting into trouble; I don't know how my sister puts up with you. Thank you for your help, officer."

The uniformed man nodded though he eyed the pair skeptically, somewhat curios at the slight shivering in the slender body and when the man's thumb rubbed a slender arm. Still, it was early and he hadn't even gotten his first of coffee yet; he was grumpy and so dismissed it as imagination. With a curt nod, he walked off.

When the officer was out of sight, he was grabbed around the waist and carried to the monster of a car that was Jacob's, compliments of his profession, and deposited in the passenger's seat before the door was slammed shut so hard the entire vehicle trembled. Crawling as far away from the driver's seat as possible, he watched precariously as Jacob walked around and got in, starting the ignition without a word and pulling into the traffic.

Morning rush hour held them in the city for more than half an hour before Jacob pulled off onto the exit that led to the outer circle of Moscow where the qualities of the houses declined with every mile. The entire trip was made in silence until Jacob held up his arm that was heavily bandaged.

"Ten stitches," Jacob growled. "I almost skewered myself on that fucking fence and needed ten stitches to sew my arm back up. I had to stay a night in the hospital and missed a very important match. Plus a certain package of mine was stolen by some gutter rat who just happens to be in this car."

"I paid for it," he reminded softly.

Jacob slammed on the breaks in the middle of the street; luckily there was no other traffic on the road but the force almost propelled him through the window. Instead he slammed into the dashboard, slipping off the seat onto the floor as he held his head, feeling a bit of wetness as blood dripped from the burst skin of his hairline.

Hauling the boy back onto the seat, Jacob slapped him twice, the veins on his hand pulsing through thin skin as he gripped a handful of red hair.

"You didn't pay the FULL price," Jacob growled. "You still owe me."

He shrunk back at a feral smirk but the man released him, starting the vehicle again and speeding down the road though their destination wasn't too far away. Parking the car behind a long abandoned factory, Jacob locked all the doors.

"Back seat. Now."

Steam still clung to the windows but he didn't need to see to know they were before his house. He sat in the passenger's seat, rumpled clothes sticking to his body with sweat, his red hair plastered in wet tendrils to his face. Every bump in the road had wreaked agony on his stinging body and he kept shifting on the hard leather seats though the ride remained extremely uncomfortable, if not painful.

Now, parked outside the old house, he blinked at the loud clink as Jacob tossed his empty beer bottle on the floor behind them, a satisfied smile on his face as he smugly watched the quiet boy.

"Consider the package paid-off," he drawled, rubbing a stained inner-thigh. "I won't tell your mother about that little incident, this time."

He nodded, at least grateful for not having to undergo his mother's wrath.

The lock popped open next to him and he felt the vehicle lift slightly as the man climbed out, walking around to pull the door open. Wincing uncontrollably, he maneuvered himself on the edge of the car seat before lowering a foot onto the pavement, the short-term stretch enough to near paralyze him. His lower lip was sore from him biting down on it by the time he finally was out of the car. Jacob had watched the entire time in smug amusement, not assisting.

"Home sweet fucking home," he said in mock cheerfulness before slamming the door shut and striding up the weed-choked driveway, leaving the younger male to limp after him.

By the time he managed to climb the four creaky steps and entered the house Jacob had made himself comfortable on the couch and had found a beer in the fridge, popping it over with an opener on his key-chain before throwing the cap carelessly over his shoulder. He wasn't alone either. Seated next to the fighter on the couch was his mother and sitting backwards on a wooden chair was Fritz; the three people he feared the most all in one room. Hoping to inch pass without them noticing, he almost succeeded before his mother's harsh voice stopped him in his steps.

"And where have _you_ been all night?"

Sighing, he hobbled into the living room, forcing himself not to meet Jacob's leering eyes or Fritz's knowing grin.

"Well?!" she snapped when he didn't answer soon enough. "And why are you walking like that?"

Fritz chuckled, sharing an amused look with Jacob.

He lowered his head, a blush staining his cheeks.

"I found him wandering the streets this morning. Taught him his lesson already. Hopefully this will teach him not to run away…and steal certain packages from me."

His eyes widened, his head flying up to stare in mixed betrayal and confusion at the smirking man who took a swig of his beer before continuing.

"Oh, I shouldn't have mentioned that….My bad. But honestly, Matilda, I have the right mind to scrap your 'membership'; I can't work with untrusting individuals like yourself."

"What?!" she sputtered, mouth falling open.

"Well, the boy stole that latest package without paying the full amount. It was only one dollar extra; I honestly don't see why he was making such a big deal out of it."

By now he was trembling, staring spitefully as the blond continued to twist and bend the facts, ending with how he had been led through the woods on a wild goose-chase and fell on old scrap metal, his bandaged arm all the proof he needed. At the mention of the injury jeopardizing his fighting Fritz fixed his younger brother with a dangerous glare; as aforementioned, Fritz truly admired Jacob's fighting.

"You little runt!" his mother erupted when Jacob was done, rising from the couch. "You screw everything up!"

"I didn't--"

"Shut up!" she growled, grabbing him in a painful grip and dragging him to the hall way towards the supply closet. "Worthless child! Can't you do anything right?!"

"I'm sorry," he sobbed, his breath hitching when she grabbed the front of his shirt, her face an inch from his.

"Me too; sorry that I didn't have an abortion when you were still in me!"

Too scared to resist, he was dragged to the open door before being roughly shoved inside the narrow closet. He turned to just see her scowling face.

"Leave this closet without my permission and you will regret it."

The door slammed shut, throwing him in complete darkness with pain and tears as his only companions.

Tbc…

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A/N: Lo and behold, the last part was one of Tala's flashbacks in 'Resurfacing'. Neat, huh?

Read & Review, please.


	10. No Brighter Future

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off of this and I write with the solely to entertain.

A/N: Would you believe that I had forgotten about this fic? **_dodges sharp objects_** I'm serious! I was going through my files and it was one of those dawning moments of : "…Holy shit!"

* * *

"Why are you always here?"

Tiredly raising his head from where he had been resting it on folded arms, he squinted up at his sister who had been quietly playing with a broken doll further down in the hall. Said doll, which she had found in the dump, now lay neglected on the old carpet.

"I don't know," he answered truthfully, resting his chin back on his arms.

"Who said you could stay here?"

"No one."

At the age of seven, Veronika was the second-youngest child in the house next to him. This did not mean that the two of them got along, The rest didn't like her either since she was rather pushy. What little interaction between them was usually her questioning his presence or appearance; whereas everyone in the family had dull and ordinary features, his bright hair and eyes and light skin made him the figurative black sheep, which was saying a lot considering the rest.

Veronika must have been very bored because she seated herself against the opposite wall, her thin legs stretched out on the floor, her toes almost making contact with his crossed legs. Watching her feet as she wiggled them for a while, she peered through dirty-blond bangs at him.

"Then why don't you go away?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go," he said solemnly, picking at a loose thread on his ruffled jeans.

She was silent for a moment.

"I don't like you."

"Why?"

"You're different."

Different?

"What's different about me?"

"Everything. You don't belong here. You should leave us alone."

He said nothing, staring despondently at his feet.

A minute or so passed by before she got to her feet, adjusting her loose dress that was too big for her skinny frame. Finding renewed interest in the doll, she walked over and picked it up, running a finger over its dirty face.

"I don't like you," she repeated over her shoulder while playing with a matted braid. "Mama always talks to you. Mama always looks at you. She doesn't talk to me…I WANT HER TO TALK TO ME!"

The doll's already cracked plastic face shattered against the wall, leaving the body to fall limply to the ground amidst shards of plastic.

"I hate this place! I hate it here! I hate it! I HATE IT!"

He didn't move, merely watching as she started to stomp on the toy's remains with her bare feet. Sharp edges cut the sole and she cried out in pain, falling back to grab her slightly bleeding foot.

"Mama! MAMA!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

While Veronika was too distraught to care, he certainly did, hugging himself tightly when Fritz's dark head appeared coming up the stairs. He must have just returned from work since he was still wearing an oily mechanic's jumper and a tired scowl. Reaching the top, he looked down at the little girl who was still weeping on the floor.

"What the hell did you do to yourself this time?"

"I want mama!"

"She's downstairs, you whiner."

"I hate him! Mama doesn't talk to me!"

Fritz hadn't been all that interested in his little sister's turmoil to begin with; catching sight of the redhead she was referring to made him not care at all. Stepping over her, the teen walked over until he stood directly before him.

Trying hard not to meet his brother's eyes, he watched as Veronika rolled over onto her stomach, looking up with tear-filled eyes. What she saw made her scream.

"NO ONE TALKS TO ME! I HATE YOU!"

Fritz ignored her easily, kneeling down to get a closer look at him. Greasy fingers stroked his cheek, leaving a wet trail. The brown eyes stared deep into his as the older male continued to touch his face, fingers occasionally caressing his neck and throat. He seemed to be thinking.

"I HATE YOU! I HATE THIS PLACE!"

Rapid footsteps sounded as the girl got to her feet, screaming and crying angrily. He felt a sudden wave of panic as she ran towards him, tears streaking her face. A frail hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of red hair which she then began tugging and yanking with all her might. Crying out, he grabbed her wrist, trying to make her let go but she refused, growling madly as she savagely began jerking his head about, her second hand joining in.

"GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE!"

His neck ached from the rough handling and he grabbed frantically at her but she wouldn't keep still, wriggling and tugging as she continued her tirade. A bare foot caught him in the side but he grabbed it, making her loose her balance and fall with a heavy thump next to him though she didn't release him, dragging him down with her. Sitting on top of him, she started pulling hard at the hair in her hands, trying to pull them out entirely. Her nails scratched his scalp as she continuously raked together more and more hair.

It all happened in a few seconds but to him it felt like hours. Too afraid to fight back, he screamed and cried as he vainly tried to pry her hands out of his hair. Hot tears spilled from the corners of his closed eyes.

"Veronika! Fritz, you asshole, stop them!"

Grizelda, having heard the commotion, appeared above them, watching the scene with horror.

"I'm tired," was the casual response.

"Asshole," she repeated before plunging down to grab the hysterical seven-year-old around her waist. "Veronika, stop it! You'll make yourself sick again!"

"GET OUT OF OUR HOUSE! GET OUT! GET OUT! MAMA!"

"Fritz, you son of a bitch, help me!"

He didn't hear the other's response but something began to roughly tug at the hand buried in his hair, un-gently forcing her fingers to let go while their elder sister lifted her body off his. Finally, the two older siblings were able to separate the younger.

"You shouldn't get yourself worked up, Veronika," Grizelda chastised softly, wiping the tear streaks away with the palm of her hand. "Your heart can't take it."

Rubbing his throbbing head, he gingerly sat up to find himself at the end of a very hateful glare, courtesy of the eldest girl.

"You're such a pain in the ass," she sneered, rocking Veronika in her arms like a baby. "You know she has heart-problems; if she died it would have been your fault! I'm telling mama that you were picking fights."

"Like she'll even care," Fritz drawled, lighting a joint he had taken out of his pocket. "One less mouth to feed. Good riddance I'd say."

"Fuck you, Fritzgerald," she said, purposefully using his full name, which they all knew he hated. "Sticking up for the tramp? If you like him so much then why don't you go fuck him?"

"What you think I came up here for?" he answered cockily. "I was only letting Veronika soften him up a bit."

While the two continued to argue back and forth he silently scooted back, getting to his feet as inconspicuously as possible. Keeping close to the wall, he managed to make it to the stairs, descending them step by step, trying not to make them creak.

"Shit! Where did he go?"

That was enough to urge him to run down the rest of the steps as he heard Fritz's heavy shoes behind him. Reaching ground floor first, he hesitated for a moment before opening the door which lead down into the dank basement. The lock clicked just as his brother turned the corner. His breath caught in his throat but to his relief the footsteps walked past the door, heading outside.

That had been too close to call.

Fritz would be on the look out for quite some time so he had no other choice than to spend the night in the basement. Considering that it was now the dead of winter, he was in for a long, miserable night. He had managed to find a worn blanket which he had used for a cover for the past five nights while sleeping near the rusted heater in the hall. He didn't dare go up to get it now.

Stumbling on the last step, he crawled under the tangle, dank heaps of rubbish to his secret spot against the wall. The day had been uneventful, with the exception of Veronicka's tirade from just now, but he was exhausted. He had been for almost two weeks. Reaching the sorry excuse of a make-shift bed of sheets, he curled up amongst them, thin arms wrapping around his stomach that was growling loudly.

It had been three months since he had last seen Kai. It felt like eternity though the pain of rejection still stung him. How was it that it hurt this time so much more than the rest? No one had ever accepted him and many have toyed with him before; what made Kai so special? How did he know that the other's receptive manners had been real? Kai could have lied to him too.

'_No he didn't. I know he didn't. He wanted to be my friend. But I did something wrong. And now he's gone.'_

He had made a couple attempts to see the bluenette again. He had returned to the woods, waiting for any sign of the long scarf or red eyes, but he never came. The last time he tried he had almost been caught by one of the guards and he hadn't dared to return again. It was as if Kai had fallen off the face of the earth.

'_Something bad happened to you. Something very bad'_

Raising himself onto his elbows, he reached out and dragged a plastic container over from the wall. It was old but still effective in keeping its contents free from damp and mould, its faded red lid sealing airtight. Tugging it open, he sat on his heels and peered in. A half-eaten pack of rations.

Wanting to save it for hard times but starving, he hesitated, unsure what to do. A stabbing pain in his abdomen made the decision for him and he picked it up, eating the last shrivelled piece of dried fruit and stale bread. Not even worthy of a lithe snack, but his neglected stomach eagerly settled for it. Any respite was a welcomed one, no matter how small it was.

He was worried, though. Ever since returning from the forest he had solely depended on the rations. The others had shut him out even more than before. Mama was still mad at him, though not mad enough to not send him across town for more 'medications'. Which meant he had to deal with Jacob once more. The man took smug pleasure in reminding him of his foolish actions. Fritz had not forced himself on him the first month, too irate to not even look at his little brother without beating him. Because the two heads of the household, mama and Fritz, were still antagonistic against him, everyone else followed suite, even though they didn't know why.

Resting his head in his hands, he could do nothing but…wait. For what, he didn't know. He had nothing to look forward to. More than ever in his life, he found himself wondering why he was even alive. His days were spent hiding from his own family and surviving the bitter cold and hunger. His nights were spent awaiting another day. Nothing made sense or had any reason.

"_Then why don't you go away?" _

Veronika had asked a good question. He had answered, but…

"_I have no where else to go."_

He didn't want to leave. Besides the fear and pain, he still wanted to fit in to this family. His family. No one got along, but there was a mutual feeling of acceptance. Why wasn't that courtesy granted to him? Why did he have to struggle just to remain within these old walls?

'Different.'

He held up his hands, staring dejectedly at the pale skin. Opposite him he could see his full though shattered reflection in a broken mirror. His red hair was somewhat darker with soot and dust, but his eyes were as bright blue as always. Not for the first time did he wonder about the sort of man his father had been and mourn how different things would have probably been if he were still alive.

'There must be somewhere where I fit in. A place where I am accepted.'

Dark towers loomed in his mind, their black stoned structures lit by spotlights as the shadows of cloaked figures soundlessly walked down long halls. Barracks upon barracks lined the expansive grounds, their windows glowing with lights. Tall gates, spiked and unbreakable, shielding the inhabitants' from the outside world. A tall man with pale features, protecting the children within from intruders. A young boy with crimson eyes, holding out the first calming hand he had ever been offered, accepting him for who he was.

He raised his head.

'That's it. That's the place where I must go. That's…That's where I'll be accepted.'

For the first time in months, a smile crossed his fine features.

He was going back. And this time…he would make sure they'd find him.

Tbc…

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Not a very strong pick-up chapter, but I couldn't dump him smack-dab in the middle of the Abbey without some foreground self-searching. 

Read & Review, please.


	11. No Turning Back

Title: Crimson's Child

Authoress: Ladya C. Maxine

Rating: M

Summary: see chapter one

Warnings: see chapter one

Disclaimer: I do not own Beyblade or any of its characters. Any and all unrecognizable characters belong solely to me and are not to be used without my permission. I am not making any money off this and I write with the sole intent to entertain.

A/N: Okay, this is just weird. I didn't forget about this story like last time, but I kept putting it off and I didn't even realize that it's been almost 2 years since I last updated it! Where the hell did the time go?!?!

And another thing: this story was in desperate need of editing! Reading it through today, I was downright embarrassed by the mistakes!

Bad news: the sequel to Resurfacing has been cancelled. I've taken on way too many new stories and I also feel that the story has already been told for the most part and it'd be nothing more than a retelling. Really sorry, guys, but the decision is final.

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He couldn't believe it. He was doing it. He was leaving his home!

It'd been a week since he'd decided on doing so. He'd been scared, mostly. Scared of what would happen to him. Scared that things would go wrong. Scared that the others would somehow figure it out and punish him, especially his mother or Fritz. Most of all, he was scared that it wouldn't make a difference. That terrified him. If this didn't work, then what would?

He'd spent the whole day in his mother's bedroom. He didn't know why. She'd grabbed him that morning and brought him there, leaving him on the bed while she sat on the floor in the corner. They'd said nothing to each other until she'd called him over to her. Was it instincts? It felt as if she knew that he was going, but she didn't mention anything or berate him. He'd sat in her lap for hours as she held him, muttering to herself how she hated them all. She'd been out most of the night before and had returned home stinking of man's cologne but with no man, surprisingly.

"This is all I have…" she'd mourned, rubbing their cheeks together tenderly. "You brats and a dead-end job. I hate it. I hate you." She'd stroked his cheek, pinched it hard, then stroked it again. "I hate each and every one of you…I wouldn't miss any of you if you died…Would you miss me if I died?"

"I don't want you to die, mama," he'd said softly, the thought making his heart constrict. "I don't want you to be sad."

"Then you should have died at birth, you little punk." She'd sighed and hugged him to the point of it being painful. "I could get money for your deaths…Lots of money…"

"Would you…kill us, mama?"

"Maybe not you," she'd said, running a hand through his hair, gently undoing the knots with her fingers. "I need you to get me my stuff; Jacob won't give them to any of the others except Fritz, and he'd take it all for himself. No, you're my little retriever. And you're not registered; you don't officially exist to the law. You dieing would bring in more trouble than cash."

With that she'd pushed him out of her lap, stood, changed and left for her job. Her touch and words, though they had inflicted pain and hurt too, lingered on him and he missed them. They hadn't cuddled like that in months…and they were never going to do so again, if he succeeded in his plans.

"I'd miss you if you die, mama," he now whispered into empty space. "I'll miss you a lot."

Mama was the only one who had an intact mirror, which leaned against the wall. He stood before it, staring at himself. His hair was no longer tangled, thanks to mama. His cheek was red where she'd pinch him but for the rest he looked okay. And his clothes weren't torn or too dirty; they were new, presents that mama had given him for his last trip to town. He'd gotten thinner, though. And he'd get headaches from lack of food, but they never lasted more than a day. He wanted to make a good first impression. If he showed up looking ragged and filthy they could turn him away out of disgust.

"Here we go," he encouraged himself, pulling on Kai's jacket, which he had painstakingly looked after all this time. "I can do this…"

He descended the stairs, minding the hole in one of the steps that Griselda had made when she'd stomped upstairs after a fight with Marie last month. She'd broken her ankle too but since no one took her to the hospital she still limped around with a self-made bandage on her foot. Because the weather was only getting better and better no one was inside. Some were off with their friends while other's were either breaking in to other houses on the street or stealing food from the nearest grocery store.

Stepping out onto the cracked and graphitized sidewalk, he looked back at the house. The ramshackle house that looked near ready to collapse in itself should the wind blow too hard. The broken shutters that hung and creaked on their long rusted hinges. The shattered windows that had never been repaired. The broken steps, the dead lawn, the bad memories.

Walking away was harder than he'd expected it to be. For a split second, he wanted to run back inside, back into mama's bedroom and wait for her to come home and hope that she'd hold him again.

But that's all he'd ever do here: hope. Hope that someone would want to play with him. Hope that someone would talk to him. Hope that he'd find something to eat. Hope that things would get better. He was losing hope of any those of things ever happening. The last thing he could hope for, was a new start.

He ran, refusing to look back one last time. He ran down the street and across the sand lot, stopping when he got too out of breath to keep up the pace. He avoided open areas after that, wanting his departure to go unnoticed, which wasn't so difficult since no one cared where he was going anyway. Only mama would notice him gone when he didn't come when she called him to get her package, and Fritz would be angry too, but neither, he was sure, would put any effort into finding him. Once he got away from the slums, he'd be in the clear.

The sun was setting and the sky behind him was dark purple. It had been a nice day. Cold with a bit of wind, but spring had arrived and the snow had long melted away.

It felt strange, stepping foot inside the forest after three months, but not unfamiliar. He couldn't remember the exact location of the Abbey, but he didn't have to look hard to find the training area: the familiar shouts of the boys and whirs of the beyblades drew him to the edge where he hunkered down behind the bushes. There they were, training in groups while guards surveyed them.

The boys were all wearing nice, matching uniforms of black with sturdy boots. Some looked a bit tousled, but they all had clean faces and managed hair. They looked healthy, well fed and energetic. Not all of them got along, but those who did slapped each others' shoulders in congratulations or when just fooling around. And, most desirable of all, they weren't alone. There wasn't a single one of them sitting off to the side, forgotten and unwanted. Just watching them blading made him smile.

This. This looked so much nicer already.

His plan was to wait and follow them back to the Abbey and find Kai. He thought of showing himself now, but what if the guards turned him away? It would be harder to sneak behind them if they knew he was here. If he could follow them and sneak inside then he could find Kai and everything will be alright. Kai wouldn't let anything happen to him. He didn't dare approach these people now anyway: the boys were all bigger than him and the guards scared him with their stern faces and loud voices.

"Kuznetsov!" one of them barked.

Lying on his tummy, he peeked out from under the bush. To his surprise, it was the pale boy he'd seen the last time. He looked bigger and his hair was shorter but the eyes were unmistakable. At his feet was his opponent, holding his face while blood dripped from between his fingers. Standing around…what was his name again? Boris? No…Bryan? Yeah, that's what they'd called him the last time. Standing around Bryan was an even bigger boy with blond hair and a serious face and a much shorter boy with a ponytail and a nose that was too big for his face.

"What a mess," another guard scowled, coming over as well to inspect the injured blader. "If all you're going to do is attack people with your blade then there's no use for you to practice beyblading, Bryan."

Bryan looked bored, ignoring the scolding adults as he wiped the blood from his blade.

"Bryan, get back to the gates. The rest of you gather your things. We're done for the day."

Wordlessly, Bryan did what he was told. Watching him go, he realized that, if he followed Bryan he'd get to the Abbey sooner and could begin finding a way inside earlier! Creeping after the boy, he didn't have to move fast since Bryan was walking slowly, unbothered and unhurried. It was hard nonetheless since Bryan was walking on a cleared path while he had to walk alongside it, trying to be as silent as possible.

The Abbey loomed into being, its black gates serving better as warnings than welcome. Peeking from around a thick trunk, he wondered if he could find that old guard post with the loose board he had used to escape last time. He'd have to follow the walls to the back and…

He gasped loudly when his was pulled from his hiding place and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. Twisting around, he froze to find Bryan, the very one he'd been following, standing above him. Just like how Kai had caught him. When had the older boy gotten here? He'd only taken his eyes off him for a few seconds to study the Abbey. He'd hurt a wrist during his fall and tested it to find it mildly sprained.

"Um…" he tried. Bryan didn't ask him why he was here or who he was. "I was just…"

Bryan knelt down before him and grabbed the collar of the jacket, stared at it for a moment, then looked up at him. When he didn't get it the other boy tugged at the material.

"This isn't yours," Bryan said. "Where did you get it?"

"Kai loaned it to me," he answered. "I'm going to give it back."

The light eyes bore into his, judging his sincerity. Bryan sat back on his heels with a satisfied look. Interest was beginning to edge its way into his face, replacing earlier suspicion. Before he could investigate further, though, a voice called out to them.

"Hey, whatcha got there, Bryan?" one of the bladers asked, emerging from the trees with a few others. The guards were nowhere in sight.

Bryan didn't reply, just stared at them as they formed a circle around them. The speaker looked down at him where he sat rubbing his sore wrist and nudged him with his foot.

"Where she come from?"

"I'm not a girl," he said softly, edging away from the foot.

The boys around them laughed at the admission.

"You're a boy?! Yeah right! And I'm the president!"

There was nowhere for him to turn; he was surrounded. Someone tugged at his hair and he jumped. The same hand was about to touch his face when another shot out, intercepted it and gave it a vicious twist! Howling, the boy fell to the ground, clutching his arm that dangled in a sickening manner. The others according took big steps back, leaving him and his saviour, who was none other than Bryan. Grateful, he moved closer to the older boy who let him, light eyes burning as he helped him to his feet and moved to stand before him.

"Piss off," Bryan snarled.

By now others had arrived, including the two who seemed to be on better terms with Bryan. Spencer didn't know what was going on but he sided with Bryan, daring any of the boys to get past either of them. He jumped when someone came up on the other side of Bryan but it was only Ian, who was even younger than him, watching him with big eyes.

"Hi," Ian said, ignoring his bigger friends' terrorization of the rest.

"Hi," he answered shyly.

"You're him, right?"

"W-Who?"

"The one Kai told us about. You got his jacket."

He nodded. "Is Kai here?"

"No. He's at his gramps, but he should be back soon!"

"What the…?! Kuznetsov!" the guard yelled, exasperated, as he came upon the boy and his mangled arm. "It's the dungeons for a week! How many…" He noticed the stranger hiding behind Spencer and Bryan and drew his weapon. "Show yourself!"

Terrified, he hugged Bryan, who didn't look happy but didn't make him let go either.

"Who are you?" the guard insisted to know.

"He's Kai's friend!" Ian spoke up. "If you do anything to him you'll be in big, big trouble!"

The gun lowered and the guards looked at one another. The head guard, the one who kept shouting at Bryan, stepped forward and waved Bryan and Spencer away to get a better look at him. "Stand up."

He did, his knees shaking dangerously. He wasn't inside yet. Were they going to turn him away? He didn't want to go back home. He couldn't! He'd do anything to stay here.

"Can I live here?" he asked.

The request made the men laugh. The other boys either snickered or sniffed in disgust at the thought of having him around them. Ian nodded, as if it were up to him, and Spencer and Bryan looked doubtful.

"We don't take in strays," the guard said. "No matter how cute they are."

"What's the holdup? We are waiting for the results," an annoyed voiced asked behind them. A man in a white coat was standing on the other side of the iron gates, which he was opening with a remote control. "Is someone critically injured, again?"

"Two," a guard said, bringing forward Bryan's victims, "and there's someone here to meet the boss."

"We have no more room," the man said, his glasses perched on his bony nose. "Especially not for a sorry street urchin. Send him away."

"Apparently, he's Kai's mysterious friend."

That made the man in the coat pause in his judgment. "His friend? So this was the one that got away from you months ago when you found Kai in the woods? That does merit some consideration. Inside, everyone. And get those two to the infirmary."

The boys entered in neat rows, some of them helping their injured peers. He tried to stick with his three allies but the head guard had him by the upper arm and steered him away from the rest.

"Bryan!" he shouted, panicking.

He didn't have to call out a second time. The older boy broke rank and was at his side in a heartbeat and he felt infinitely safer. Wrapping his arms around the other's waist, he worried that they'd be forcibly separated, but the guard let him go once Bryan was near.

"Now what?" he asked the man in the coat, the two of them staring down at them. Bryan looked determined and, to make his point, the blader wrapped his arms around him in return, daring the adults to do something about it.

"Don't aggravate him," the man in the coat said. "Bring them to Boris."

Bryan shifted at the name, not unaffected, but he didn't back down.

"Fine," the guard said. "You two, this way. You're going to regret this, kid."

He didn't know who he meant, him or Bryan. A loud creak behind them made his twist his neck to look back as the tall gates clanked shut, locking them in. The thick material of Bryan's clothes felt scratchy against his skin but he hugged the other closer, minding not to accidentally trip him as they walked after the guard. All eyes were on him and he was happy to have what appeared to be the most dangerous boy in the place on his side. It felt a lot like having Kai: safe.

"Thank you," he whispered to the other, daring to let go of his waist and just hold on to an arm.

Bryan didn't reply, though he did look down, head tilted slightly to one side. He was a strange one, but he was someone. He, Ian and Spencer: already he felt better around them than he'd had around anyone since…ever.

He wondered if the Abbey looked less scary during the day; against the night sky the buildings were difficult to tell apart and the torches cast eerie lights and shadows across the high corridors. The floors, walls and ceilings were all of dark grey stones. The doors were made out of dark wood. Winds howled through the halls and over arches, making it appear that the building was mourning. At times he pressed his eyes shut, afraid to look, feeling as if something was following them.

'It's going to be okay,' he told himself. 'It's…different, but once Kai comes back everything will be okay. And Bryan and Spencer and Ian are nice enough. I'll get used to this.'

In one of the highest towers they stopped before a closed door that had an entire hall for its own.

"Sir," the guard called, knocking on the door with his knuckles.

"Yes?" an irritated voice called from within.

He could never forget that voice; the patient yet cold voice that had made Jacob himself tremble. This was who he'd have to convince to let him stay? He almost didn't dare to. But he had to. He'd come this far…

"Sorry to disturb, sir, but we've found the one."

'The one' didn't say much, but he must have been the topic of a lot of talk because Boris' tone changed.

"Have you now? Send him in. Alone."

"You heard him," the guard said to Bryan. "It's about time we get down to your punishment anyway."

Bryan scowled back at the man but pulled his arm free and stepped away. The loss of contact was like a blow to his nerves and he quickly tried to latch on again but the guard took him by the arm and steered him towards the door.

"Get in there," he said. "Boris wants to see you."

"Am I in trouble?" he asked, looking up at the massive door.

"Of course not," the guard said. He didn't sound like he meant it. "You wanted to stay here, right? Then you've gotta convince the boss that you're serious. Not that it's going to be a hard decision…" He chuckled at some private joke. He grabbed the doorknob and pushed it open a bit. "Bryan, let's go."

He wanted to run after them, to get back to Bryan. Standing alone in the big, dark and empty corridor, he felt vulnerable. Bryan didn't look back as he walked. Did that mean that everything was going to be alright? That the older boy felt that he'd be fine without him? Or did he not care?

"Come in," the voice inside the room ordered.

He was scared, but had to obey. As he stepped inside his one sole thought was: Where are you, Kai? That's all he wanted: to see the bluenette again. To see his friend.

"Well, well, well, look what found its way back," Boris, sitting behind a heavy desk, grinned down at him with gleaming eyes.

Despite his belief that this was his last resort, that this was all he had left, that this was the only right thing to do; why did he feel like this…was one big mistake…?

Tbc…

* * *

A/N: Alright, making progress here. Now it's time to start tying up the loose ends. Sorry that it's taken so long for me to update this one. Strange enough, it's one of my favourites too! I don't get myself.

Read & Review, please.


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